


Now That I Know You Believed in Me

by SparrowFlight246



Series: I'll Do Whatever it Takes [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Martha, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, Gen, Lams - Freeform, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Washingdad, Washington’s a teacher, high school parties
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-04-01 02:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13988547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparrowFlight246/pseuds/SparrowFlight246
Summary: Everything was supposed to settle down after the memorable events of the past month, with the boys returning to school and the family establishing their new normal. Everything was supposed to be finished and neat and complete, and, quite simply, done.But, strangely, Washington had a feeling that this particular journey was only beginning.(Get excited, because the sequel to I Know That Greatness Lies in You has finally arrived.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Are you guys psyched for this cause I am _psyched_ for this.
> 
> Hello! The sequel is finally here, and I am really, really excited for you guys to start reading it. I think this is going to be a fun ride for us all. Let me know what you think of it so far in the comments!
> 
> If you haven't read I Know That Greatness Lies in You (and if you're new to me entirely, hi!), the first story in this series, I suggest doing that first. If you don't want to, then read ahead here if you'd like, but just know that you'll probably be confused and pretty much every word of this thing is a spoiler for IKTGLIY. So, I really recommend reading that before you tackle this one. 
> 
> Title is from Newsies because I was listening to Something to Believe In the other day and I just couldn't pass up the opportunity. Seriously, it just works _so well._ (Also, creds to LocalEmo4 for the I’m Washingdone idea. Thanks so much again.)
> 
> Enjoy and thank you so much for reading!

George Washington had always been fond of being the fly on the wall. 

As a teacher of his age and experience, he had long mastered the art of acting as if he wasn’t paying an ounce of attention while actually listening to every word being said in his classroom. This ability was handy in the ways of catching cheaters and keeping a closer eye on his students, or course, but also held the undeniable plus of being able to constantly eavesdrop on conversations, which never failed to entertain. 

He knew of many other teachers that flat out despised students chattering during class, forcing them into absolute silence whenever possible and griping to Washington about the few that refused to shut up like the kid had committed a personal offense to them. Washington would usually respectfully listen to these teachers’ rants, even pretending to agree from time to time and nodding understandingly as if he felt the same way, when, truthfully, he generally hated these educators and avoided them as a rule. But, when you were trapped in the teachers’ lounge with them, there truthfully wasn’t much you could do and he’d had to sit and endure their complaints more than once. 

But, really, Washington had always been different than those people. Hell, half the time he actually encouraged his students to talk. It allowed vital communication time on top of helping the concepts he was teaching to be properly absorbed, and kept the kids from getting deathly bored when they were having a bit of a slower day in class. Also, the bits of gossip thrown into intelligent conversations never failed to be extremely interesting, tactfully overheard from Washington’s desk as the teacher mindlessly graded papers and expertly hid his shock that Theodosia Bartow and Jacques Prevost were back together yet again.

And although sitting behind or upon his desk, depending on what time of day it was, and eavesdropping on his students was easily one of his favorite activities, there was an entire new layer of interest that came with overhearing the kids he considered his own.

That would be where he supposed it started, a Monday morning, before the bell rang for first period to begin and already Alexander was getting pissed off at his friends. The boy sat at his desk with his books in front of him and an air of eagerness surrounding him, batting off Lafayette’s fretting hands and defiantly ignoring Hercules’ warning lectures to take it easy while John watched with a sort of vexed but acceptingly defeated expression. 

For this insistent mother-henning, though, Washington really couldn’t blame the boys. It was Alex’s first day back to school after a week in the hospital and another week at home during their two-week fall break, finally returning to school after the memorable events of picking up pneumonia, passing out in the boy’s bathroom, George King’s arrest and the custody switch to the Washingtons as their second foster kid. Really, Washington had a feeling that Alex was more than ready to get out of their house again, but that didn’t stop the other boys from fussing over him like a bunch of mothers over a ornery six-year-old with a scraped knee. 

Washington, however, had already spent a good week worrying about Alex with the rest of them and felt it was past time he step back into the role of teacher, let the poor kid breathe a little. So, even when Lafayette shot Washington a desperate, exasperated, pathetically-pleading-for-help look when Alex literally shoved him away from his desk, Washington just shrugged from his chair and pointed to the clay _I’m WashingDONE_ sign sitting proudly on his desk (a student had made it for him a couple of years prior in Intro to 3D Art as a joke, but then Washington just seized the crudely done plaque like a hard-won trophy and proudly sat it right where everyone could see it, much to the student’s horror) and let the boys handle it themselves. He’d still be keeping a careful eye on them, of course, and wouldn’t hesitate in the least to step in the moment he thought he may be needed, but he could at least give them the illusion of independence. 

“Hercules, I swear, if you ask me one more time if I ate this morning-“ Alex was saying vehemently, glaring up at his friends fiercely as Hercules promptly returned then stubborn stare. There was laughter traced in each of their features even as Alex tried to put up a irritable front, expression defiant but faintly smiling eyes betraying his good humor. That boy was drawn to learning like a fish was drawn to water: Washington wasn’t surprised that even his friends’ neurotically worrying tendencies could bring him down.

“Dude, you literally forgot to eat for nearly 36 hours once,” Hercules reminded bluntly in response to that, leaning against the desk with one hand planted on the wood and the other set on his hip, almost ironically mom-like in its finality. “And you’ve dodged the question repeatedly. Did you eat or did you not?”

Now, Washington knew the answer to this easily, considering it was his own wife that forced the banana upon Alex this morning. For heaven’s sake, he was in the kitchen at the time, sipping his coffee and watching with faint, badly-disguised amusement as Alex attempted to bat off the fruit Martha insisted he take. But, again, teacher-mode. So he instead just propped his feet up on his desk and continued subtly listening to the conversation while pretending to scroll through his email on his phone. He even took the occasional sip of his coffee for added effect. 

Thankfully, Laf soon came to Alex’s rescue. _”Oui,_ he did!” Lafayette piped up helpfully from his place banished to his own desk across the room, voice raised in order to be heard but expression cheerful. His hands were folded before him, calmly resting on the wood of the desk even as his knee bounced with an energy that simply refused to be restrained. “Martha made sure of it before we left for school, _je l'ai vu moi-même.”_

Hercules’ gaze flickered back to Alex almost smugly at that, a small, triumphant smile on his face. He tipped his head complacently, raising an eyebrow in vague amusement.. “See? That’s really all you had to say.”

“That’s what I did say!” Alex squawked in protest, sitting at his desk and staring up at Hercules in offense. His expression was almost exaggeratedly betrayed with a dramatic hand splashed across his chest, the excitement that came with finally getting back to school after two stressful weeks away bleeding into each of them. Even in the mock argument with actual purposes, the glint of humor never left Alex’s eyes. “Seriously, guys, would you lay off the worrying already?“

“Nah,” John responded easily, obvious amusement at the situation tugging the corner of his mouth up. He perched on the edge of Alex’s desk, one hand supporting his weight as he leaned back to see Alex better and the other twirling a drawing pencil between his fingers absently. Washington noted the open sketchbook still residing on John’s own desk a couple of feet over, a half finished sketch light and rough upon the snowy white surface. “It’s way too funny to see you get all worked up. Besides, you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Alex seemed to be trying very hard not to smile, stubbornly keeping his grumpy front up as he crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. “John,” he said flatly, looking up at John from his chair with his chin jutted up in clear, stubborn independence, but his laughter crept into his words despite his best attempts. 

John held up his hands in an act of mock surrender, hopping off Alex’s desk and turning to his own as the bell rang, plopping down in his own seat as the announcements began over the loudspeaker and Hercules made his way to his seat as well. “Just saying,” John said passively, but the smile that followed was enough to coax a grin out of Alex as well. 

Washington kicked his feet down from his desk, rolling his chair closer to the table and folding his hands upon the wood. He swiped his coffee again with one hand, taking a long sip from the thermos as his students settled into their seats, the announcements completing a moment later, signaling to the teachers to begin first period.

Setting his coffee back down, Washington leaned forward slightly with his hands folded upon his desk, reveling in the quiet that soon settled over his class and the expectancy that came with it. The teenagers stared back at him in varying degrees of interest, some appearing engaged and prepared and others half asleep, but his gaze soon settled on his boys again in that moment of anticipating quiet, with the students waiting for him to begin. Hercules was smiling faintly, clicking his pen mindlessly as he waited, while Lafayette just seemed to be excited for the day in general and John was watching Alex with a distinct fondness in his expression and his sketchbook still in front of him, Alex watching Washington in turn eagerly with a pencil in his hand and a spark in his eyes.

“Good morning,” Washington said into the classroom, voice low and eyes smiling, and class began.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get some Washington and Martha fluff, the boys hang out, and John and Alex have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there!! So here’s chapter two. It’s long but it’s seriously fluffy, so hopefully that will help make up for the length. But, for my fellow angst-lovers, never fear- the more serious stuff will be coming up too in a couple of chapters ;)
> 
> This fic will update every Friday, just like I Know That Greatness Lies in You, so next chapter next week!! 
> 
> Thanks for reading and enjoy!

Washington strode into the house that night to the quiet noise of laughter and soft, smiling voices, the sounds so perfectly familiar for the first time in far too long. Setting his bag down at the door, he closed the garage door and turned back to the house. But, even with the knowledge that he was finally home and could go wherever he pleased, he stopped in the doorway of the mud room, adjoining to the rest of the house, and released a sigh, the tension melting from his shoulders and the stress from his mind with the single exhalation. Alex’s first day back had gone okay, if the hoarse laugh currently echoing through the house had anything to indicate. Thank the Lord. He set a hand against the doorframe, letting it take some of his weight, shaking his head in relief. Thank the Lord. 

Although he couldn’t have been standing there in the doorway for more than a minute, Martha soon approached him with a puzzling but pleasant expression before he had a chance to walk further into the house, strolling down the hall from the kitchen. Her hair was pulled back into a clip, gentle and twisted and loose, a warm smile immediately upon her face even as her eyes kept their glint of curiosity. 

“I thought I heard you come in,” she mused, drying her hands on a dish towel as she stopped. She leaned her shoulder into the wall a few feet away, shifting her weight and facing Washington with a quirk of her eyebrow. “What are you doing back here?”

Washington returned her smile, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the familiar voices still exchanging dialogue from what appeared to be the second floor, the sounds carrying remarkably well through the house. “Listening,” he replied with his smile taking on a crooked quality, tone low to avoid interrupting the boys. “Savoring, I suppose.” 

Martha chuckled, tossing the damp dish towel over her shoulder and instead crossing her arms. “Ah,” she agreed, gaze also cutting over in the direction of the boys, a sudden burst of laughter resounding through the house as if on cue. Her expression softened, fondness settling into her eyes. Washington watched her with a similar fondness within his own dark gaze, faint smile lingering. “I see. I’ve been doing the same ever since they’ve gotten home.”

“Hmm,” Washington hummed in interest, strolling closer to hug his wife in greeting. She immediately folded herself into his arms, face pressed to his chest with a soft, content sigh. The lighting was dim in this area of the house, the shadows draped across both of them soft and faint. “So we’re both guilty of eavesdropping,”

“That we are.” Martha pulled away slightly, just enough to rock up on her tiptoes and press a kiss to her husband’s lips. “I missed you today, and the boys. It was far too quiet without the four of you.”

The two of them walking back to the kitchen then, Washington soaking in the feeling of home after a full day away, Martha’s hand in his. The light returned with the kitchen, the overhead fixtures burning brilliantly and casting a bright, warm light over the entirety of the room. “I missed you too,” he agreed as they entered, Martha releasing his hand to cross over to the island settled in the center of the room. “It was strange to be back at school after so much time at home with only the six of us. Bit of culture shock, actually.”

“I’m sure.” Martha had apparently been making dinner when Washington arrived, if the ingredients spread out across the island with a slightly dusty recipe card settled in the center of it all was to be considered. She returned to her efforts then, easily picking up where she left off as Washington pointedly stayed out of her way, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed and eyes smiling. “It was odd for me too. I probably shouldn’t have worked from home today; it was strange, all silent and empty. Especially after a solid week of constant chattering with the boys being here as much as they were.” She huffed a laugh with a slight, wry smile, gaze focused on her cooking even as she spoke. 

Washington shifted his weight so that he was resting back against the counter more comfortably, watching his wife work with a faint smile of his own. He would have offered to help her, but several disastrous attempts at ‘helping’ in the past advised him not to even attempt suggesting his assistance. “Well, you’re going back to work tomorrow, correct?” he asked.

Humming a confirmation, Martha held a whisk in her right hand and a mixing bowl in her left, whipping whatever concoction within the plastic bowl into whatever state she desired. The sleeves of her sweatshirt were rolled up to her elbows, wearing sweatpants and comfortable clothes while she could during her last day at home. Washington certainly couldn’t blame her for picking comfort, he had to wear a tie for the first time in nearly two weeks today, and he definitely wasn’t overly ecstatic over it. 

“Then you should be back to normal relatively soon, if that offers any consolation,” he continued musingly, finding himself tugging uncomfortably at his tie now that he was thinking about it. His other hand came down to rest on the counter behind him, the quartz smooth and cool beneath his palm. “Have you seen the boys since they’ve been home?”

Martha twitched a smile. “Briefly.”

“Who’s here?” Washington let his hand fall from his tie, letting it be for now.

“All four of them, predictably. Hercules I knew was coming, while John just showed up with the rest of them and made himself at home. I didn’t question it.” Martha flashed a grin at Washington, glancing up at him quickly with humor lining her expression. 

Washington chuckled. “You’re a wise woman, dear.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Just then, there was a thundering down the stairs, the steps so heavy they could only belong to Lafayette. Sure enough, the kid himself nearly skidded into the kitchen a moment later, sliding on his socks and catching himself on the island, smiling in a way that wasn’t entirely apologetic at Martha when she raised a questioning eyebrow.

 _”Bonsoir,_ I was just wanting to check upon dinner, Hercules is hungry and he will not stop complaining-“ Suddenly, Laf noticed Washington, expression brightening as he cut himself off. He waved in greeting from across the kitchen, offering a smile at the teacher’s appearance. “Oh, hello!”

Chuckling, Washington returned a slight, faintly amused wave of his own, but his foster son had already continued with his previous statement, rambling on to Martha with somewhat overdramatic motions all the while. “But between John and Hercules I am beginning to lose my mind, they have been pestering me since we have returned home,” he was saying, but Martha quieted him after a moment, laughingly gesturing in the direction of the pantry. 

“There’s a bag of chips in there, if you want a snack before dinner’s ready. Just don’t-“

Lafayette let out a yelp of victory, flying over to the pantry and ducking out a moment later with the bag in his hands. Throwing a _merci_ over his shoulder, he leapt up the stairs again, rushing off to either his or Alex’s room where the boys were undoubtedly gathered with the hard won bounty clutching to his chest. 

“-ruin your dinner,” Martha finished to the almost empty kitchen, shaking her head fondly but exasperatedly as her kid disappeared upstairs. 

Washington laughed, rolling his shoulders and resettling his hands so they rested on the edge of the counter behind him. “To be completely fair, you really shouldn’t have expected anything productive to come after you mentioned the chips,” he pointed out.

A small smile still on her face, Martha waggled the whisk in his direction playfully, momentarily distracted from dinner. “You try it next time, tell me how it goes.”

“I already have to deal with them during the school day, you get evening duty,” Washington chuckled. He pushed off the counter to stroll over to the island, going to stand behind his wife and wrap his arms around her middle, gently pulling her to him. She tried to keep cooking despite being physically pulled away from the counter, laughing at her own attempts. He responded by pressing a kiss to the top of her head, into her hair. “Besides, you’re so good with them. I couldn’t match you if I tried.”

She lightly smacked his wrist, the action far too gentle to be genuine even as she leaned back into him, setting down her whisk in surrender and finally allowing him to hug her. “Charmer,” she murmured, voice haughty even as a smile colored her tone. 

Washington smiled, kissing her temple and squeezing her lightly in an embrace. “Beautiful.”

“Woah, keep it PG in here, y’all,” John’s voice floated through the kitchen, Washington looking up to find the boy strolling into the room with a teasingly disgusted expression. “You two are gonna make me puke if you keep this up.”

“What do you need, John?” Martha asked, clearly trying desperately to keep a straight face even as her amusement leaked into her voice. She didn’t move from Washington’s hold, but did keep enough authority to shoot the boy a blunt glare without malice. 

“A bowl,” John said simply, immediately crossing the kitchen to where he knew the cheap bowls where kept and stooping to grab one out of the cabinet. Coming back up a moment later with the brightly colored, plastic object hand, he flashed a quick smile to the Washingtons, already on his way out of the kitchen. “Long story short, the bag of chips really isn’t working out for us. There may have been a spill, but it’s cool, we cleaned it up and everything, so don’t worry.” Mock saluting the two, he spun out of the kitchen and bounded up the stairs, container firmly within his grip. “Thanks!” he called over his shoulder, turning the corner to the bedrooms once he reached the second floor.

“Is he gone?” Washington murmured into Martha’s hair a second later, amusement coloring his tone. 

Martha sighed, hands settling on Washington’s arms, still wrapped around her middle. She tipped her head back into his shoulder, faint, fondly exasperated smile remaining despite her best attempts to suppress it. “Yes, but probably not for long.”

“We lost all concept of privacy the moment those boys walked in our doors for the first time, didn’t we?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“I still think it’s worth it.”

“Strangely, I do too.”

***

“So you met Peggy today, huh?” Hercules asked humorously, sitting against the wall with a handful of chips cupped in his palm. He tossed another chip into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he shot Alex a knowing look, his right elbow resting on his bended knee so his chip hand was conveniently close to his mouth. His maroon sweatshirt sleeve hung off his wrist slightly there, the color a stark contrast both to the navy blue wall behind him and the cream carpet beneath him. “How’d _that_ go?”

Alex breathed a laugh in response, shaking his head with a somewhat fondly helpless shrug. He sat on the floor of his room with his back pressed against the end of the bed, John sitting beside him with Hercules at the wall a few feet away and Lafayette lying prone on the carpet with his chin propped up on his hand, the four of them set up in a vaguely circularly shape. The bowl of chips resided in the center of their lopsided circle, easily accessible but safely out of range to be knocked over without a ridiculous amount of effort. They’d already learned that particular lesson earlier, John careful to keep his feet a safe distance away from the plastic container to avoid a reprise of the incident. 

“It went well, I guess. I’m somewhat traumatized now, but it went well,” Alex said cheerfully, and John barked out a laugh of irony, legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. 

“If you thought _Pegs_ was intimidating, just wait until you meet Angelica,” he said drily.

Herc laughed at that as well, looking instantly entertained at the very notion. “That’s sure to be an interesting meeting,” he agreed, laughter tinting his tone. His beanie was ever perched on his head, smile on his face. “Seriously, can you imagine those two going head to head?” He threw a glance at Alex. “We’ve got to get them together sometime, record the results, and then post it somewhere. It’ll probably go viral.”

“Should I be scared?” Alex asked, nervous laughter in his tone. 

“Probably,” John admitted.

But then Lafayette made a noise of protest, popping a chip into his mouth and swallowing hurriedly as he pushed himself into a sitting position. “Oh, but John, you forgot the best part of Alex and Peggy’s first meeting,” he reminded brightly, a gently teasing note in his voice. John groaned theatrically, burying his face in his hands as he saw where this was going, Hercules listening in amused anticipation. Looking at Hercules in plain smugness, the little shit he was, Lafayette smartly told his boyfriend, “Peggy informed Alex of the phone calls.”

Although Hercules didn’t lose his slight, wry smile, he did look over at John questioningly, knowing that whatever happened must have been good to get such a reaction out of him. “What phone calls we talking here?” he asked, reaching for another handful of chips now that he had run out of his supply. Once restocked, he settled back against the wall again, waiting amusedly.

John lifted his face from his hands just enough to throw Herc a miserable expression, maybe a touch overdramatic but justified. “The phone calls,” he sighed flatly. “As in, the panicked phone call to Peggy at 2 am the night after I met Alex because I thought he was attractive and I was freaking out over what to do about it and needed advice, alongside the sobbing phone call to Eliza the day Alex was admitted to the hospital. _Those_ phone calls.”

Understanding dawned on Herc’s face a moment later, somewhat pitying but undeniably laughing. “Oh, kid,” he laughed, smiling in a way that somehow held both sympathy and schadenfreude. “So Alex knows about those now? I was kind of wondering when that was going to come up.”

“I do,” Alex confirmed, throwing a brief, wide grin to John, “and I still think the thought behind them was very sweet. John, however, was absolutely mortified when she told me. It was pretty entertaining to watch, I gotta say.”

John shot him a withering glare. “I’m glad you find my humiliation so hilarious,” he said drily. 

“I thought you were going to start crying, you so embarrassed,” Alex reminded, voice gentle but eyes laughing.

“You really aren’t helping your case here.”

“Alex, you do still need to meet Eliza and Angelica,” Lafayette piped up helpfully, effectively changing the subject in a way that was thankfully pretty discreet. John made a mental note to thank him excessively later despite the fact that he was the one to bring up the matter entirely. “The Schuyler sisters are prone to being a package deal, but I believe you will like them. They are fun to be around when they are together.”

Alex smiled, the expression now slightly shy, taking on the endearingly nervous quality he always did when the conversation turned to him. “I’d like to meet them, sometime,” he agreed, letting his legs stretch out alongside John’s, the two boys sitting side by side. Although John’s legs were longer than Alex’s, they still managed to tangle their legs, crossed at their ankles, a quick reassurance that they were still fine despite John’s somewhat theatrical griping. Alex’s jean-clad leg was warm against his, still long and thin and spindly but slowly filling out as he gained weight with the Washingtons. The process of getting Alex properly nourished was slow-going, but John had recognized some progress already, Alex’s sharp, too-thin angles beginning to soften and round out over the past week or so. John reached for Alex’s hand absently as he thought and Lafayette chattered on about something or another, a semi-conscious movement anymore. Alex squeezed his hand in return, quick and warm and slightly distracted by the conversation but still just as automatic and sweet as anything else. 

Herc popped another chip in his mouth. “Oh, and, by the way, Jefferson’s still a bitch, in case anyone was wondering,” he said conversationally around his chewing, quickly fitting in a word between Laf’s ramblings and effectively reattracting John’s attention.

“Well, I didn’t really think his bitchiness would just go away overnight, despite helping us with the whole hospital situation before break,” John said bluntly. He didn't dare move in order to avoid disturbing Alex, but his expression took on a note of humor, indulging Hercules in the story he clearly wanted to tell. “So, what’d he do now?”

Hercules huffed a laugh, looking vaguely amused at the memory as he leaned back against the wall, chip hand now empty again but elbow still propped on his knee, hand hanging loosely at the wrist. “He tried to challenge Mrs. Adams about some random shit he thought he knew in the middle of class. You can imagine how that went.”

“He did _what?”_ John demanded, choking on a sharp, startled laugh. Alex watched him warily as he caught his breath again. “Is the kid _suicidal?”_

Chuckling, Herc shook his head. “Nah. Just a moron.”

 _”Oui,_ that was not very intelligent of him,” Lafayette agreed reluctantly. Although he had a tendency to give Jefferson the benefit of the doubt whenever possible, even the French teenager had his limits somewhere. 

“How fast did Adams roast him to a crisp? My money’s on about nine seconds, tops,” Alex bet, slow grin spreading across his face once he was sure John was okay. Usually Alex wasn’t quite as malicious as that, but Jefferson was a whole other matter entirely. Everyone knew that all bets were off with that idiot. 

Hercules laughed, dark eyes scrunched in a smile. “Seven seconds, but you were close. I actually remember to time it this time around.”

“Speaking of Jefferson, have you heard of his party this past weekend?” Lafayette asked through a mouthful of chips. “I have heard people saying the police arrived near the ending. Apparently it was quite the affair.”

“Yeah, Jefferson’s last party got shut down by the cops,” Hercules confirmed, looking torn between being amused and acting grave about the somewhat serious nature of the conversation. He seemed to settle for apologetically spiteful. “I mean, it’s not the first time, and Jefferson’s rich, pretty boy ass definitely got has enough money to handle it, but yeesh.”

“Thank god we hate him,” Alex said bluntly. 

Hercules threw him a smile. “You’ve got a point,” he said. “But, hey, his parties are kind of cool every once in a while, as long as the cops don’t bust us. We’ll drag you along to one sometime.”

“You know, sometimes I forget that you punched him,” John said seemingly randomly, laughter in his tone as he glanced over at Alex, smiling faintly. “Then I remember and it never fails to make my day. I mean, you hit him hard, and after knowing us for, like, two weeks.”

Alex laughed a little, bending the leg that wasn’t twisted with John’s and pulling his knee loosely to his chest. “Well, I’ve got experience with throwing punches,” he returned, seemingly unthinkingly. “With my life, you get a lot of practice and even more exposure. Teaches you some stuff after a while, I guess.”

John’s smile faded. 

An awkward quiet settled over the group, no one quite sure how to respond to that. Herc took on the concerned lines around his eyes, just like he had for the majority of the past two weeks, while Lafayette frowned, expression gentle as he kept a watchful eye on his foster brother. The quiet lingered, uncertain and abruptly suffocating. 

Alex looked uncomfortable. He shifted, a somewhat embarrassed flush appearing in his cheeks as he realized what he just said, how he just pretty much ruined the previously pleasant atmosphere. Ducking his head in attempt to hide his humiliation, he let out a soft cough of apology, seeming unsure of how to continue the conversation now. John watched, sympathetic but hesitant. 

Alex pulled his hand away.

***

“Hey, Alex.”

John hated the way Alex startled at the sudden greeting, his gaze snapping up to the door with automatic, wary intensity with eyes wide and posture instantly tensed. And, perhaps even more than that, John hated how instantly he understood it at the same time. Alex had been sitting on his bed with a book open in his lap when John walked up, knocking on the wall but stopping in the doorframe with his bookbag in his hands and an unsure expression on his face. 

“You kind of ran after dinner and I figured you probably wanted some time to yourself, but I was just heading out and I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye,” he continued in way of explanation, standing awkwardly in the open door, hesitantly concerned. Alex’s gaze didn’t waver. “I was just a little worried about you.”

Alex forced himself to relax, blowing out a breath with a slight, relunctant nod. If he thought that hint of a smile was going to convince John of anything besides how much he was lying through his teeth, then the boy was kidding himself. “I’m fine.”

John’s expression didn’t change, eyes careful but unflinching as he stared his boyfriend down. “You sure about that?” he asked flatly.

Alex faltered, looking as if he wanted to respond but wasn’t sure how. He was swamped by the sweatshirt he was wearing and only seemed to bury into it further now, John recognizing the dark blue fabric from Lafayette’s closet but not commenting on it. The two boys eyed each other from opposite sides of the bedroom, Alex carefully, John worriedly, for a long moment of mutual consideration. Despite the fact that John had purposely come into this as open and non-threatening as he possibly could, Alex still seemed more closed-off and distrustful than he had in weeks.

John couldn’t shake the feeling that they had somehow reverted to what they were before all of this happened. How it was before Alex had gotten sick, before King had lost custody, before the Washingtons had taken him in, back when Alex was skittish and nervous and wary of even the slightest unexpected movement. But, at the same time, John actively tried to remind himself of just how much Alex had been through, and how much ground they still had to cover. He wasn’t going to just be fine and perfect and okay all the time right away, despite how much John wished Alex would be able to live without his relapses, solely for the sake of the kid’s well-being if absolutely nothing else. But recovery just didn’t work that way. It wasn’t linear and flawless and _easy_ all the time, even if it had been at least decently smooth so far. Recovery wasn’t direct in any respect; it was up and down and side to side and stopping and starting at seemingly random intervals, and _damn it,_ John was going to be right by Alex’s side through the entire journey to okay whether the kid wanted him there or not. 

Now, if he could just figure out how the hell to go about executing that clearly awesome plan, that’d be great.

Exhaling quietly, John cautiously ventured into the room, watching Alex for any indication of the boy being uncomfortable with his presence. When Alex’s hesitantly defiant expression didn’t change, John carefully perched on the edge of the bed the other boy was still sitting upon, a good distance from his boyfriend but close enough to be able to see every last emotion flickering across his guarded features. Alex watched him carefully, looking slightly guilty but fierce, daring John to speak without speaking a word. 

Well, John really never was one to turn down a dare.

“Alexander,” he sighed, dropping his backpack on the floor beside his feet and turning to face his boyfriend with a wearily concerned expression. “What’s going on?”

Alex shook his head, breaking eye contact. “I told you, it’s nothing,” he muttered, but John was shaking his head before he could finish speaking. Sighing as well, Alex pulled his knees to his chest in a way that was nearly protective, fidgeting with a hairtie on his wrist and avoiding John’s gaze. “I said something I shouldn’t have, I guess, “ he admitted, quickly, quietly, almost as if he was confessing to a sin, “back with Herc and Laf before dinner. Ruined the conversation and kind of freaked out as a result of it.”

“You didn’t ruin the conversation.”

Expression dry, Alex’s gaze flickered up to meet John’s again. “Did you not hear the awkward silence that followed my sad attempt at humor?” he asked flatly. The blinds on the window near the bed were open and the light of the sunset was flooding into the room, casting a mixture of blood red, fire orange and golden yellow across Alex. It lit up his eyes in the most curious way, making the dark hues appear to be blazing with the colors of a flame. “I totally ruined the conversation.”

John hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to go about this. But, looking at Alex’s tentatively vulnerable expression yet guarded eyes, he reached a decision. “Okay, new approach.” He shifted on the bed, pulling his legs up under him on the heather navy bedspread and turning to face Alex full on, so they were both fully seated on the mattress on either end of the bed. With the movement, the sun caught his eyes in the same way as it did Alex, throwing a strange, golden white glare of light over his view of his boyfriend as Alex stared back with an expression of too many emotions and thoughts to name. 

John was now just near the window, and from this angle, he could truly appreciate the beauty of the sunset occuring just outside. Dying sunrays drenched the rest of the room in color, glowing squares from the window scattered across the carpet and a few exceptionally bright beams catching the air, capturing dust motes twirling through the space in a strange, wonderful dance, so hypnotisingly beautiful yet so delicately fragile that a single breath would find itself able to disrupt the entire choreography. It was brilliant and breath-taking, the color almost woven into the air, and such a startling contrast to the tension crackling between the two teenagers in it’s witness that the comparison was almost humorous.

Leaning forward slightly as his attention refocused on the person who most direly needed it, John found Alex’s eyes, defiant brown meeting hesitant hazel in the gorgeous, color-soaked world of a bedroom for a fraction of a second before Alex cut his gaze away again, fiercely opposing to even the slightest touch of intimacy. But, still, John just sighed in quiet resignation, continuing despite it. “So, you know about my dad,” he stated bluntly, not able to think up a more tactful way of starting this conversation.

Alex stiffened.

“You know what he was like, what he did. We’ve talked about it, a little, and I’m sure it will probably come up in the future,” he continued, casual, almost conversationtionally. “But, really, you know about it. I’ve told you that story before.” John paused for a moment, subtly steeling himself even after as many years as it’d been. His hand pressed into the mattress beside him slightly, the feel of the soft, cushioned material of the bedspread strangely comforting as he inhaled once, gaze flickering over Alex’s face watchfully. “You know that he hit me.”

John’s gaze never left Alex, taking in the way his glossy hair reflected the sunset, the way his brooding eyes refused to meet his own. The way that, when John mentioned the strike, he flinched so hard it was as if he’d been slapped himself.

“You also know that Hercules and Lafayette know about it too,” John hurried to continue, not wanting that somewhat depressing note to hover in the air for too long. “And I’m pretty sure the entire world realizes how painfully obvious they can be, even when they don’t realize they’re doing it. There’s been some awkward encounters when I brought up stuff too, back when they didn’t know how to react with me,” he admitted, not quite regretfully but also not overly excited over the memory. “They’ve since figured it out after four years basically spending half our time right up in each other’s faces, but it was actually pretty rough at first. Like, they acted like they were walking on eggshells from the instant I even casually mentioned my dad to the second I changed the subject.” John sighed, tugging on his ponytail mindlessly and finally letting his gaze drift from his boyfriend, instead looking towards the window, watching the brilliantly burning sun dip below the dark smudges of trees lining the horizon, painting the sky as it went. “It . . . yeah, it was pretty damn uncomfortable for a while there.”

Although Alex still didn’t look at him, his expression had taken on a quietly apprehensive note, thoughts flickering over his face like lamps during a storm; light one instant and dark the next without a breath of hesitation between them, back and forth again and again with each one lasting less than a second. “I never knew that,” he said, softly, as if the news had surprised him in some way.

“Yeah, I know you didn’t,” John agreed, his gaze flickering back to Alex to find him staring at him with an intense sense of apprehension, finally meeting his eyes. “And that’s why I told you. Because, honestly, I get it, Alex. I get what it feels like when it seems like you’re alone in what you’ve been through, and how alienating it can be when no one seems to understand that you’re not as fragile as they think.” He spared a small, quick smile of apology. “And, honestly, I know I’ve probably made you feel like that too at some points, despite the fact that I never meant to. But, my point is, I get it. I get it, and I wanted to make sure you knew that.”

Alex looked somewhat startled. 

“I don’t get all of it, of course,” John said in a rush, over-imaginative mind instantly leaping to conclusions. “I didn’t mean to make what we’ve both been through look anything near equal, or make my wimpy little sob story seem anywhere near as bad as what you’ve survived over the years, so don’t think I was trying to downplay what you’ve had to experierence or anything, I just- uh, I just meant to-”

“John,” Alex interrupted, gently, his expression understanding but voice firm. “Hey, chill. I get it.”

John nodded, releasing a breath and trying to collect himself again. He ran a hand over his hair, smoothing the flyaways of his ponytail as the brown curls shone in the colors of the sunset, flaiming with saturation. “Alright, good,” he muttered. “That’s good.”

Alex had taken on a thoughtful note to his expression, watching John in a way that was both musing and gentle. “How long have you been thinking this whole little speech over?” he asked, tone gently teasing.

Huffing a breath of a startled laugh, John shook his head with a hint of a smile. “Since before dinner, I guess. I don’t know, I just realized that we kind of have a lot in common with this one, and I figured I’d let you know.”

Alex nodded, returning the shy smile as he exhaled softly, the last of the tension in his posture leaving with the breath. “And thanks for that,” he said, voice genuine. “I… yeah. I understand what you’re saying, and thanks.”

John wasn’t even that surprised to find himself blushing slightly, but he ducked his head anyway, a breathy, embarrassed chuckle escaping him. “Yeah, anytime.” His gaze flickering up to Alex again, he smiled slightly, expression fond. “You good?”

“I’m good,” Alex smiled in response. He reached for John’s hand, intertwining their fingers in a motion so beautifully familiar it was as if John had known it all his life. “I promise you, I’m fine.”

“I’m glad,” John sighed in response, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand gently with a smile, “I was just a little worried about you.”

“I know.” Alex let his head rest against John’s shoulder, the soft smile remaining in his flaming eyes as he gazed out the window, watching the sunset. “I always know.”

And, as Alex stared at the sky through the glass with the colors of the sunset playing across his skin like the notes of a symphony and his eyes shining with the colors of fire, John couldn’t stifle the thought of how beautiful the boy was, how incredibly lucky he was to have him in his life. How incredibly lucky they were to be alive.

And no, recovery wasn’t going to be easy, or perfect, or even vaguely linear. There was going to be relapses, and pauses, and drawbacks and blips in the path and spontaneous issues that no one would have been able to predict. The path to okay wasn’t a straight shot to perfect- it went up and down and side to side and backwards and forwards and every other imaginable direction without a hint of logic or sense to any of it. Recovery wasn’t even a destination, really, more the journey and what came of the travel. John knew all that, and he knew it terribly well. 

What was truly important, though, wasn’t what they were facing in the future, but what they were handling in the present and how to go about moving forward. John wasn’t going to pretend to know exactly how they were going to do that either, but he assumed it would take the family in all it’s entirety, with support from each and optimism from all. That they knew how to do, even in the midst of uncertainty and unsureness.

They’d figure it out. 

With John at Alex’s side, Herc and Laf flanking them, and Washington and Martha leading them through it all, they’d be just fine.

They always were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to you for making it through the entire chapter, I know it was long so I really appreciate it!!
> 
> So, I just want to say thank you for the awesome amount of feedback I’ve gotten so far on this. So many people I recognize and knew from IKTGLIY have returned (cue the squeals) and so many new people I am so excited to get to know have appeared. I’m really excited for this story entirely, so thanks for returning to the old readers, and welcome to the new. Y’all are awesome. 
> 
> Also, credits to defendedbymypen for the idea of the entire last scene, with Alex and John. You are especially awesome, and thank you. <3
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great week until I see you next, and reminder to smile at a stranger today. (Bonus points if that stranger looks like they could really use a smile in their lives.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex has a nightmare, and then Martha shares a bit of mildly concerning information with Washington.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Chapter 3 is a tiny bit shorter than I usually write, but I think I like the shorter chapter thing. We’ll see what happens. 
> 
> Next chapter Friday, thank you very much for reading and enjoy!!

It had been a dreadfully long day for everyone.

During the two week fall break, most students and teachers alike had long settled into the vacation mindset, taking advantage of the lack of school to sleep in and enjoy their free time, and because of this, Washington was completely sure that nearly every student and teacher was suffering after returning to school with the onslaught of worksheets to complete and essays to grade and deadlines to meet just waiting in sadistic anticipation to greet them. 

Even Washington himself had somewhat accidentally settled into the extended weekend mentality, and then regrettably had to face a especially rude awakening from it that first Monday morning back to school. He could see the groggy dread in his students all day, less than pleased with having to take on their assignments and responsibilities all over again after a terribly short two weeks away. The first day back was always the hardest, Washington was sure.

And that was just for the other kids. It didn’t even begin to cover Alex. 

That poor kid, despite how excited he was to go back to school, probably had the hardest day of them all. Lafayette had told Washington after dinner about all the questions Alex’d been asking by cluelessly ignorant peers (dramatically passing out in the school bathroom and fainting into a well-known teacher’s arms evidently causes word to travel fast, even during a break) over the course of the day, and although Alex was doing a incredible amount better even since he’d gotten out of the hospital, Washington knew he still quietly wasn’t back to feeling 100% quite yet. 

These past couple of weeks, hell, these past couple of months had been taxing for the boy, but starting up school again was sure to be a different kind of draining entirely. Going back to his classes likely brought back old memories, meeting new people probably relit dormant nervousness, and facing rapid fire questions almost definitely stirred up Alex’s anxiety all over again. The day had to have been tough on the kid in the least. 

So, when Washington was woken up by a scream the night following, he found himself terribly, bitterly unsurprised.

Alex’s room was just down the hall from the master bedroom and right beside Lafayette’s, a quietly intentional choice that gave Washington and Martha fast and direct access to him whenever need be and, in the case that they wouldn’t be able to reach him for whatever reason, kept Laf close as well. 

So the scream woke up everyone in the house within an instant, Washington startling awake and gasping into consciousness as Martha followed close behind him. 

He bolted upright in bed, breathless and tense as Martha gasped up beside him. The master bedroom was dark and cool in the November night, the shadows layering over the room thick and midnight blue. The silhouettes of dressers, beside tables and Martha’s vanity were large and distorted in the darkness, the only light in the room being the shine of the moon, faint and weak and filtering in through the single uncovered window. It was eerily quiet in the still beauty of the silent bedroom, the air itself seeming to hold its breath for a long, single instant of tense anticipation as Washington heaved for breath, unsure of what woke him but knowing it had to be something urgent if it was capable of startling him and Martha both awake so instantly and so abruptly.

Then another scream shattered the silence and they hit the ground running.

In the week that Alex had been home with them, this had happened a few times, not enough to be considered a common occurrence but enough to establish a bit of a protocol for when episodes did take place. So, as Washington raced down the hall in his cotton sleep pants and t-shirt with Martha sprinting along at his heels, whimpering sobs still able to be heard, Martha darted away from her husband to hurry to Laf’s room in an act of unspoken agreement. She’d check on their older son first (who was undoubtably awake as well at this point, especially considering that he and Alex shared a wall), then come and help with Alex as soon as she was sure he was alright as well. 

Washington, however, skidded to a stop in front of Alex’s bedroom door instead, breath heaving and heart pounding as he instantly reached for the brass handle. 

His hands were shaking as another scream split the air, hands almost violently trembling as he quickly twisted the doorknob, the thick wood of the door dark and heavy as he slammed it open. Washington tried to steady his hands and level his breathing even as he hurried into the room, attempting to remind himself that it was just a nightmare, just a PTSD symptom, nothing that could actually hurt Alex in a physical, long-term standpoint. But, as the next terrified whimper seemed to cut through Washington sharper than a blade, none of that appeared to make any of this any better. 

Washington was talking even before he hurriedly flicked on the lights with a trembling hand, illuminating the room in momentarily blinding but undeniably relieving light. “Alexander!” he nearly shouted, voice loud and clear as he continued to ramble on, just to fill the haunting silence. “Alex, son, you’re safe, you’re at Mount Vernon, everything’s alright, you’re safe, you’re safe.” Washington knew he likely sounded ridiculous at the clearly alarming rate he was repeating the same meaningless phrases but still continuing on, keeping up a stream of words reassuring as he could manage, but at this point, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Alex flinched hard at the light, recoiling into the mattress even as he sobbed in distress. The sheets were tangled around him, his hair matted with sweat and dark eyes squeezed shut with panic lining his expression, clearly caught in the trap of a nightmare. No matter how many times Washington saw the boy like this, it never got easier. 

Even in the few times this had happened, especially since Alex had come home, Washington had picked up on some tips to make the situation a touch smoother, even in the most miniscule of ways. One of the more important of these tips were to avoid touch or contact of any kind, which explained why Washington was now standing at Alex’s bedside, furiously wishing to ease the boy’s terror but finding himself unable to do anything but sit there a good few feet away from his foster son and talk him through it. 

Although Washington never failed to at least try and keep his head during these episodes, the feeling of helplessness that always seemed to come with them simply refused to fade no matter how many times they went through it. The feeling of being purely and undeniably unable to do anything even resembling productive, to help the kid in any way at all other than pray for the terror to pass, for the boy to finally wake up and jolt himself back into reality. Standing there in the bright bedroom in his sleep pants and anxious expression with his voice never pausing in its reassurances, Washington felt powerless in a way that was growing more and more familiar to the man. 

“Alex, it’s Washington, it’s George Washington, you’re _safe,_ son. _You’re safe!”_

With a gasp not unlike a sob, Alex’s eyes flew open, wide dark brown hues glassy with tears and terrified in the light of the bedroom, breath heaving and quiet, fraint sobs still racking his thin body. Washington almost melted in relief despite the kid’s plain distress; he could see the confusion in the boy’s expression, but also the alertness. The nightmare had mercifully finished, _finally._

The boy took a shuddering breath a moment later, shaking in the sheets as he tried to regain his bearings. Washington could see his eyes flickering around the bedroom in a way that seemed to be desperate to soak in every inch and every detail of the familiar space, drinking in the navy blue walls, the Hogwarts castle poster tacked to the wall above the dresser, the blinking alarm clock reading _3:57 AM_ on the nightstand, the bright bedside lamp sitting beside it and the desk residing across the room with a simple office chair rolled up flush to the dark wood, an already broken in laptop perched neatly upon it. 

Washington took a careful step forward, keeping his hands in front of him and his expression passive. “Alex? Are you alright?”

Finally, Alex’s gaze flickered over to Washington, and his entire body relaxed with an incredibly relieved sigh at the appearance of his teacher, the final thing to fully convince him of where he was. “Oh thank god,” he muttered, shoving himself into a sitting position. Wiping at the tear tracks shining on his cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt, he inhaled shakily again, clearly trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare and get a hold of himself again despite how perturbed and mildly embarrassed he appeared. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” he muttered, as if he was trying to convince himself alongside Washington, instantly trying to brush off his panic in a way that was terribly characteristic.

Letting out a relieved sigh of his own, Washington walked over to perch on the edge of the bed, attempting a half smile as Alex looked over at him with an expression that wasn’t quite settled. “I don’t know if I believe that,” he admitted softly. Now in close proximity, Washington studied Alex’s expression, taking in the hard, anxious lines around his eyes and mouth, the tears still drying on his face, the sweat threaded into his glossy hair. Somehow, Washington had the terrible hunch that this wasn’t the first nightmare Alex had experienced tonight, just the worst.

“I’ll be fine,” Alex repeated, suddenly firmly, furiously swiping at his face with his sleeves as he desperately attempted to dry his tears, desperately tried to put his automatic, figurative shield he tended to resort to whenever he found himself even mildly uncomfortable back up all over again. But, if Washington wasn’t mistaken, his shield was beginning to become too heavy for him to lift as much as he used to, which may have been a blessing in disguise. But, even as he looked the farthest thing from alright, he still stared at Washington in a way that almost dared the teacher to object, dragging his sleeve across his face defiantly and refusing to break eye contact. It was amazing how fast Alex went from whimpering in terror from the horrors his own mind forced him to relive to trying to brush off what he just had to experience, acting all tough and stubborn and guarded. Amazing, but so frustratingly heartbreaking all in the same moment. “I’ll be fine.”

“Of course,” Washington sighed, knowing not to push that particular lie at the moment. Despite how badly he wanted to reach out and comfort the poor kid, how much he yearned to wrap the boy in a hug until the world was terrified to even think about hurting him again, he restrained himself. Best not scare the boy any more than his own mind already had succeeded in, despite his valiant attempts to come across as strong. The day that Alex figured out he could be vulnerable around Washington without worrying about consequences would be a truly miraculous day indeed. 

“Uh, Washington?”

Washington’s gaze flickered up to Alex again, expression expectant and eyes gentle in the quiet of the night. He still sat at the side of the bed, not too close to the boy but near enough to offer a hint of a smile he knew would be recognized, prompting and warm. “Yes?”

Alex looked uncomfortable, shifting in the sheets as he finally let his hands drop back into his lap. He was dwarfed by the sheer size of the sweatshirt he’d worn to bed, sleeves hanging past the lengths of his fingers as he seemed to bury further into the expansive fabric, looking small and fragile despite his best attempts to tough whatever he just had to relive out. But then his eyes met Washington’s, hesitant but genuine with a sigh that managed to hold slightly resigned thanks and mildly embarrassed apology, too many emotions to name behind the dark hues as they leveled with the teacher’s. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course, son.”

***

The thing about Alex’s nightmares was that virtually no one in the house got any sleep following them. 

Now, this wasn’t always true, but it was pretty common occurance. Alex would usually find himself either reading or writing until daylight, too shaken up to risk trying to fall asleep again, and Lafayette would sit up with him if the younger boy let him, keeping his foster brother company company and looking at his phone in comfortable silence as they waited for the day to begin, sitting side by side in Alex’s bed or on the floor with a blanket tossed over their legs. Washington and Martha, however, usually at least attempted to fall back asleep, returning to bed once they were positive everyone was okay and would continue to be okay and collapsing to their mattress in vain hope that that sleep would once again find them. However, these feeble attempts rarely ended in success, and more often than not they found themselves sitting at the kitchen table with coffee and small talk as they wasted away the hours until the sun rose.

And, apparently, ‘more often than not’ also applied to them tonight. 

Washington sat across from his wife at the table, his hands wrapped around a ceramic mug of lukewarm instant coffee and his posture openly exhausted. Martha looked to be in a similar state, her phone lying near her but abandoned as she stared into her mug tiredly, legs tucked beneath her and hair pulled up in a now ruffled bun for the night, eyes glazed and unfocused. They sat in silence with a single light turned on in the dark of the kitchen, the clock sitting upon the microwave now blinking _4:33 AM_ at them in a way that could only be considered taunting. Washington sighed as another minute lazily flickered past, the coffee bitter and cheap on his tongue and the unavoidable tiredness weighing down on his shoulders. 

But then Martha looked up from her coffee, her expression suddenly very grim. “I got a phone call earlier this evening,” she said, voice serious. Clearly, she’d been thinking this over for a while, if her abrupt delivery and suddenly grave eyes were to tell anything. “I was waiting for a good time to tell you about it.”

Washington found himself instantly sombering, unsure of what was going on and immediately uneasy as a result of it. He stared at his wife in silence with a furrowed brow, not speaking yet, just expectantly waiting for his wife to continue as the coffee mug continued to cool in his hands.

She sighed, dark eyes grieving. “They want Alex to testify at King’s trial.”

Washington sputtered over his coffee. _”What?!”_

“I know,” Martha grimaced, her shoulders tensing with the words. “It’s terrible, absolutely terrible, but the social worker seems firmly convinced it’s entirely necessary. I haven’t been able to speak with anyone directly associated with the trial yet, but from what I can gather, they need victim accounts before they throw King in a jail cell, and that victim account is majorly Alex.”

“That- no. No, there has to be something else we can do. I don’t want our son anywhere that man again, no matter how civil the circumstances.”

“Believe me, I agree,” Martha muttered, her expression pained. “There’s one other girl who’s already agreed to speak, but they’re apparently deadset on getting Alexander. And, unfortunately, his social workers seems to whole-heartedly agree, which leaves us in a rough position.” She sighed again, rubbing at her temples with one hand with her elbow propped up on the table as her eyes briefly closed, suddenly looking very, very tired. “I know how incredibly hard it would be for Alex to have to see King and reaccount what he had to experience to so many strangers. I’d never want him to have to go through that all over again.”

Taking a breath, Washington hesitated for a moment now, his fiercely paternal side and his logical side sparking in battle within him at the information even as he forced himself to take a moment to slow down, to consider what Martha was speaking of before he got himself worked up. He leaned forward with a huff of an exhale, resting his elbow on the table and dragging his hand over his mouth, eyes unfocused as he thought the situation over with a conflicted, unsettled expression. “I don’t want this for him, and I don’t know what else to say about it,” he finally said, shaking his head slightly as his gaze flickered back up to his wife to find her staring back at him seriously, her eyes uncertain. “But, really, you’re the lawyer here, dear. What’s your opinion on the situation?”

“Well, there’s the problem,” Martha said, looking torn and exhausted. “As a mother, I never want our kid to ever have to go through anything like this. What mother would? I’d never wish to see him have to face something like this, and never at our own hands.” She blew out a long, measured breath, brow knit in concern as her gaze settled upon the wooden table top, eyes brooding and dark. Washington watched her quietly as she continued, listening to every word from across the table. “But, as a lawyer, I can’t deny that having Alex speak is definitely our best possible shot at getting King the punishment he deserves,” she admitted quietly, her tone uneasy but reluctantly resigned to the reasoning long ground into her mind from years of law school, years of experience. “It’s just logic. Getting a direct testimony from the exact kid who experienced first hand exactly what we’re trying to get King convicted for would the most surefire way to get King the jail time he most certainly warrants. Of course, that’s the most simple and easy thing we could possibly do to make this case go the direction it needs to. But…” she trailed off there, expression dreading as her gaze flickered back up to meet Washington’s. 

“But, Alex,” Washington finished with a sigh, knowing exactly what his wife was saying without a second of hesitation. He pressed his hands together as if in prayer, letting the tips of his fingers rest against his lips as he thought, expression dark. “When should we tell him?” he asked gravely, his eyes meeting his wife’s as she stared back with a regretful but grimly accepting expression. 

“Soon,” she murmured, her voice sure even as her eyes remained uncertain. “He deserves to know.”

Washington lifted an eyebrow, lips thinning. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” she agreed with a sigh. Martha rested her head in her hands, looking absolutely exhausted in the dim lighting of the quiet kitchen. Her bun was coming out from sleep, frizzy flyaways surrounding her head like a halo. When her gaze flickered back up to Washington’s, he couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under her eyes, the exhaustion lining her expression. “We’ve got to tell him tomorrow. Or, today, I suppose. Tuesday. We’ve got to tell him Tuesday.”

Quietly, Washington reached out to settle a hand upon his wife’s, gently pulling it away from where it was cradling her head and instead fitting it within his own. He gave a warm smile when she glanced up at him again, squeezing her hand tightly, leaning forward into the table to be closer to her. “Hey,” he whispered. He waited until her eyes were truly focused on his own to continue, brown meeting brown in a long moment of mutual comfort. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. We’re going to figure this out.” 

“I know,” she breathed back, just as quietly, her gaze soft but tone firm, “I know we will. We just have to decide on how first.”

“Exactly.” Washington offered another hint of a smile, eyes kind. “Martha, you’re amazing, you know that?”

Martha attempted a dry chuckle in response, shaking her head slightly in faint, fond exasperation. Her other hand joined her first at Washington’s hand, both of hers wrapped around his. “So I’ve been told,” she whispered.

“I love you.”

“And I you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick disclaimer- I know basically zilch about laws and trials and stuff like that, so please forgive me for any mistakes I may have made in this chapter! 
> 
> Also, just wanted to say this real fast: this work is a safe place. If you ever need to let off steam or rant or just sit and talk to somebody for a couple of minutes, the comments are always open to you. I definitely don’t mind long comments or long comment threads (love them, in fact, along with every comment I get) and obviously please only share what you’re comfortable with, but if you ever need to talk, feel free to drop by here. I’ll always be around. <3
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, and reminder to tell someone how much you love them today (and you can totally tell this to yourself, too). 
> 
> Have a wonderful week!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington and Martha tell Alex about the trial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!! Chapter 4 here. I sure hope you guys are ready for that angst I kept hinting at, because this is kinda where it starts. I feel evil for being excited. 
> 
> WARNING: There is a description of a panic attack in this chapter. You are definitely more important than a fanfiction, so do me a favor and stay safe, okay? 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, next chapter Friday and enjoy!!

Washington had been stressing about this moment for the entire day. 

From the second he and Martha had sat down at the kitchen table at 4 in the morning with cheap coffee and soft voices and quietly decided to tell Alex about the trial today, a deep-rooted worry had planted itself firmly in his heart and had flat out refused to subside since. He knew there were was no use in sitting around fretting about a matter they had no control over, but the concern stayed with stubborn determination nonetheless, seeming completely and utterly unperturbed by Washington’s rationalizations. 

He muddled through his day with the concept of the night seemingly stuck in his mind, both dreading the conversation and looking forward to just getting it over with. Washington knew that it would be completely unfair to Alex not to tell him, but Washington also couldn’t deny the fact that he would do just about anything to keep the poor kid from having to worry about this too. 

Dear Lord, this situation was just so all around _shitty._

But, on the bright side, the other boys had coincidentally busied themselves that night and unknowing helped greatly by leaving Alex alone for the evening, and Washington had to be thankful for that. John had his monthly art club meeting for most of the afternoon while Lafayette and Hercules were going on a date together (their first in quite a while), which meant that Alex was coming home by himself and would remain that way for the rest of the night. 

So, when the moment Washington had been dreading all day finally arrived, Washington and Martha found themselves alone in the house with Alex after school that day, the two of them sitting across from each other at the kitchen table and Alex standing at the entrance of the kitchen, looking wary and unsure but curious at being called downstairs seemingly randomly. Washington and Martha held hands under the table, a silent, subtle reassurance. 

“Uh, hey,” Alex said awkwardly in greeting, glancing between the two of them uncertainly. Washington had just gotten home while Alex had been out of school for a few hours now, and he had probably been pulled away from his writing when he’d been called downstarirs if the pencil graphite darkening the side of his right hand was anything to go off of. And, with a distracted, quick smile and restless glance towards the upstairs, he clearly wanted to return to it as soon as he could. “You wanted to see me?”

“Sweetheart, why don’t you sit down?” Martha suggested softly, her voice gentle. She looked pointedly at the seat between she and her husband, empty and waiting. Washington squeezed her hand once under the table, a quick reminder that they were in this together. 

Alex eyes narrowed slightly in cautious confusion, and although Washington’s heart sank at the faint but instant distrust, he really couldn’t blame the boy for questioning this. Having a serious talk like this was a somewhat strange situation and one that they hadn’t exactly experienced in the past, and the subtly nervous, falsely reassuring expression on both his and Martha’s faces weren’t probably helping matters. “Is it okay if I stay standing?” Alex asked warily.

Instantly, Martha was nodding, immediately understanding that this wasn’t a case of rebellion but comfort. “Of course, Alex,” she agreed quickly, voice passive and rapidly comprehending. “Whatever you feel comfortable with.”

Gaze flickering between Washington and Martha again, Alex seemed suddenly suspicious, his expression taking on a note of apparent nervousness as his brow lowered fractionally. “What is is this about?” he asked lowly, tensely, instantly picking up on the tension in the air. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Washington responded slowly, carefully. “We just need to talk to you about some news we recently recieved, make sure you know about it as soon as you can and have as much time as possible before it comes into play.”

Martha leaned forward onto the table then, gentle and nonthreatening but informative. “It’s really not anything that’s too terribly big of a deal,” she continued, voice comforting even as Alex’s anxiety seemed to double with the words. “I promise you, it’s nothing to worry about.” 

“What is it?” Alex demanded softly, voice nearly toneless even as his expression turned something resembling fearful. Everyting about him was nervous, on edge even as he took a deep breath, clearly trying to settle himself. “Please, just tell me.” 

Although the situation probably could have had a touch more tact, Washington knew that all this buildup was doing nothing but stressing out Alex more. Squeezing Martha’s hand again under the table, he took a breath, his eyes leveling with Alex’s. “King’s trial is scheduled in a few weeks,” he said, voice apologetic but firm. “Alexander, they want you to testify.”

Alex’s expression snapped from confused to immediately understanding within a single moment.

The single moment seemed to stretch out, everything that came with the trial seemed to be dawning on Alex in one terrible, harsh hit. The fact that he’d have to see King again, have to encounter his former foster father, have to be in the presence of the man who beat him. Washington’s gaze never left Alex in that moment, his dark gaze soft and dismal and so damn apologetic, watching as the boy realized _exactly_ what was being asked of him, _exactly_ what he was suddenly facing yet again.

Then the moment ended.

And then Alex was gasping for air. 

Terror flashed across his face as the boy stumbled back, crashing into the wall behind him and sliding to the floor with a dull thud. His breathing heaved, coming in strangled gulps as the panic consumed him, instantaneous and sharp and terrible, leaving him breathless and violently shaking and with frantic anxiety flooding his eyes.

Washington’s chair slammed into the floor. _”Alexander!”_

Within an instant, he was at Alex’s side, crouching in front of him on the kitchen tile as Martha shot up from her chair as well. “I’ll get the panic pills,” Washington distantly heard her shout as she rushed away, but his mind was elsewhere. His thoughts spun, his own panic threatening to overtake him at Alex’s clear distress as the boy choked on ragged inhales, the teacher’s heart pounding and own breathing speeding up as a result of it. 

It wasn’t that they hadn’t encountered situations like this in the past, because they definitely had. But, this usually only happened after nightmares while Alex was still coming back into reality, and never at this severity and abruptness, and never had Washington seen Alex just this panicked, with wide, terrified eyes and a deathly pale face and breathing stuttering. 

But, despite the adrenaline pounding through his head and the desperate thoughts spiraling through his mind, Washington fought to remain calm, knowing that panicking himself would do absolutely nothing to help the situation. So, he schooled his expression into something hopefully resembling reassuring and forced his voice to stay steady.

“Alex, son, look at me,” he ordered softly, still crouching on the floor. Alex’s gaze darted back and forth along the ground pointlessly and panickedly, unseeing and frantic as his breath came in ragged gasps. “Alex. _Alexander.”_ Sighing in fast, sharp resignation, Washington gently but firmly caught Alex’s chin with a bent finger, tipping his face up to meet his eyes. Alex stared back at him with terror written in his expression, still gasping for breath. Washington offered a tight but hopefully reassuring smile, settling his gaze on Alex’s frantic eyes. “Listen to me, son,” he said slowly, clearly. “You’re having a panic attack, Alex, this is just a panic attack. We’re going to breathe through it, okay? You’re going to be just fine.”

Alex’s eyes locked on Washington’s, gulping in an inhale as he finally found something to focus on. He trembled violently against the wall, sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest on the cool kitchen tile. Shaking his head the best he could with his chin still caught in Washington’s grip, he tried to take another breath, stuttering over it and causing him to only hyperventilate more. “I- I-”

“Shh, son,” Washington soothed, taking his hand away now that Alex’s gaze was locked on him. Shifting position so that he was comfortably sitting cross legged on the tile in front of his foster son, he took a deep breath of his own, modeling. “Inhale for four seconds, exhale for four seconds. Breathe with me, Alexander, come on.”

Washington’s voice remained soft as he began counting, gently ordering Alex to breathe in an out on his command. The two of them sat facing off on the kitchen floor, Washington intentionally open and nonthreatening as Alex curled in on himself and attempted to follow his direction, stumbling through ragged, faltering breaths and trying to refocus his panic to the soft spoken instructions in the quiet of the kitchen. 

It took several long minutes for Alex’s breathing to begin to steady, Washington’s voice never pausing as he talked the boy through the panic attack. Martha came skidding back into the kitchen at some point during this with a prescription bottle of the pills Alex’s psychiatrist gave them in hand, but Alex pushed them away as he began to calm down. The pills had a tendency to knock him out, and besides, he argued between gulps of air, he was _fine._

Although Washington could definitely argue with that, the determination written across Alex’s face, almost overtaking the panic as Alex concentrated on retaking control of his breathing, warned him against it. The teacher knew that particular debate was lost before he even considered saying a word. But, as Alex’s panic continued to finally subside, Washington decided that he could let this one go.

Eventually, it was just the three of them sitting on the kitchen floor with no words being exchanged, Washington and Martha side by side with Alex still leaning heavily against the outdated wallpapered wall across from them, breathing deeply and hands still shaking slightly. None of them actively sought out eye contact with the others nor tried to make conversation, instead just letting themselves catch their breaths and allowing the quiet to settle into them. The only sounds in the kitchen for a long moment were Alex’s raspy breathing and Washington’s occasional sigh, attempting to calm himself down as well in a way that wasn’t overly flashy or conspicuous.

Washington’s hand was resting on the ground beside him, the tile cool and smooth beneath his palm as he shifted his weight slightly, quiet and subtle. Alex was gazing pointlessly at the floor as well, his legs still pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped loosely around them, his chin resting on his knees. His hair, tied back and artfully messy, left a few flyaways framing his face, the dark strands exaggerated in the dim lighting as he released a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his quiet voice breaking the silence without making eye contact with either of his foster parents.

Washington’s gaze snapped up in alarm, dark eyes wide and fervent. “Don’t you dare apologize, Alexander,” he said firmly, instantly and vehemently shutting down the boy’s attempts to blame himself. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”

“Oh, baby, everything’s just fine,” Martha soothed, reaching out and smoothing a strand of hair behind Alex’s ear with a gentle hand. She sat with her legs folded under her to Washington’s right, still in her dress pants and blouse from work but looking completely unconcerned about wrinkling them or dirtying them by sitting on the ground. The gold bracelet she was wearing slid up her wrist slightly as she pulled away, the metal jingling quietly as the bands encountered each other as softly as friends after a dreadfully long time apart. “Don’t worry, darling. We really should have sprung that one on you with a little more grace.”

Alex sighed again, shaking his head and pulling his legs closer to his body. His gaze flickered up to meet Martha’s, then Washington’s, resigned dread in his expression. “So, the trial’s a couple of weeks from now, huh?” he asked tonelessly, pulling the conversation back to its original point with a tired delivery.

“I’m afraid so,” Washington confirmed quietly, his voice regretful. But then he shifted again, holding Alex’s eyes with gentle intensity. “But, Alex, remember that you don’t have to testify if you don’t want to. We are in no way going to force you into it. Believe, me understand how tough the situation is.”

Even as he spoke, a small part of Washington was firmly and almost automatically convinced that Alex was going to instantly decide not to speak at the trial. The teacher immediately believed that Alex just wouldn’t want to go through with what they were asking of him, if the reaction he just had to the very concept was enough to trigger a full-on panic attack. A miniscule sliver of Washington’s mind distantly questionedthe boy, and despite how much the teacher knew of Alex’s capabilities, he couldn’t help but quietly doubt how just much the kid would be able to handle.

But then Alex looked up at him again with his mouth let in a thin line of apprehension, eyes grave, and Washington was instantaneous positive that he was wrong. “What if I don’t?” he asked of him grimly, grave understanding etched in his features. “What if I decide not to testify, and let the trial just happen without me there? Would King win?”

Washington looked at Martha to answer this one, and she took a careful breath as she mulled over her answer, expression hesitant as she glanced at Washington cautiously, trying to figure out how to respond appropriately. “It’s . . . somewhat likely,” she said slowly, voice meticulous. Her fingers danced over the bracelet, fidgeting and unsure.

“And, in the case of King winning, he’d be back on the streets,” Alex continued, voice blunt as he lifted one eyebrow in fractional inquiery.

“Yes, he would,” Martha admitted with a sigh, dark eyes apologetic.

“I’m testifying.”

Washington looked at Alex in alarm at the speed of his answer, eyebrows raising slightly, questioning, even as his expression took on a note of careful concern. “Are you sure about this-”

“Yeah.” Alex’s gaze leveled with Washington’s, expression containing traces of nervousness but eyes suddenly determined, already unwavering in his decision. “I’m sure.”

Martha’s eyes creased in concern, pursing her lips as she tilted her head slightly, exhaling in worry. Her voice was gentle when she spoke, careful. “Alex, sweetheart-”

“I’m doing it, Martha,” Alex interrupted, voice firm. “I can’t let King do to other kids what he did to me. If going out there and testifying is what it takes to get him what he deserves, then I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever these people ask of me.” His expression was serious, intense, silently asking his foster parents to understand his perspective. “I just can’t let a repeat of what I went through happen to some other kid. I can’t.”

_Ah._

Washington released a barely audible breath of realization at the words, suddenly understanding with the kind of resigned, distantly proud apprehension that only Alex seemed able to draw from him. Of course that’s where the boy’s mind went; not to himself, or his own wellbeing, but to the other children that might suffer as a result of his denial. 

The teacher sat back slightly, shaking his head in faint, fond exasperation, letting out a short exhale of brief wondering at the incredibly selfless kid sitting before him. He wasn’t thrilled with the conclusion Alex had come to, he wasn’t going to lie there, but the boy’s response was one that wasn’t going to be easily changed. _Of course._

And, sitting on the cool tile in a dim corner of the kitchen as the day just began to fade through the windows, Washington saw the exact moment the realization seemed to dawn on Martha as well, her eyes softening and expression taking on the exasperatedly fond note of a mother not quite sure how to handle her kid but proud of him nonetheless as the recognition settled upon her. She nodded slightly, once, then twice, the movement subtle and understanding, and her mouth closed into a firm line of understanding. “Okay,” she said, voice soft. 

The word seemed to repeat in Washington’s mind, again and again as Alex seemed to relax back into the wall with a visible sigh at the confirmation, his eyes nervous but satisfied. Okay, they were doing this. Okay, Alex had made his decision. Okay, their family was going to get through this together. Okay, everything was going to be _okay._

Okay. 

Washington could work with okay.

He couldn’t help but at least be grateful for that.

***

“Hey, Laf?”

Alex stood in the doorway of Lafayette’s room that night, awkward and hesitant in his pajama pants and oversized, faded t-shirt with his hair pulled back into a sleep-ready sloppy bun. Lafayette, sitting up in bed with his phone in hand, glanced up at his foster brother at the words, immediately brightening as he gaze settled upon Alex. _”Mon ami!”_ he said cheerfully in greeting, but Alex could see the silent concern behind his eyes even as he grinned. Laf had been told about the trial when he had gotten home, and had immediately taken on the same worried, apologetically empathetic disposition that Martha and Washington had been carrying around ever since they found out about Alex’s testimony. 

But, as much as Alex generally wanted to discourage the pity, he actually could kind of use the sympathy right now. 

Shifting his weight from one bare foot to the other on the plush carpet, Alex let out a short breath uncomfortably, feeling awkward but seriously not wanting to be alone. “Would you mind if I slept in here with you tonight?” he asked in a rush, praying that the request wouldn’t be too weird for the French teenager.

Laf instantly scooted over on the bed, making room for Alex with a wide smile and without a breath of complaint.

Alex just sent up a silent prayer of thanks for this family he somehow managed to land as his own before gladly entering the room, crawling into Lafayette’s bed like a sea-weary boat into harbor. 

Miraculously, he slept without nightmares that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caring Washingdad for the win
> 
> Also, I just wanted to say thank you again for all of the incredible feedback I’ve been getting on this story. You guys never fail to make my day. <3 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and reminder to perform a random act of kindness for someone today (bonus points if you throw in a smile while you’re at it). 
> 
> Have an awesome week and see you Friday!!
> 
> 4/13 UPDATE: So, this week turned out to be way busier than I had thought it would be, so I haven’t quite finished this week’s chapter yet. I’m so sorry about that! But, anyway, the chapter will be posted on Sunday (4/15) morning instead of today. Basically, I’m not missing this week’s update, just pushing it’s posting date back a few days! So sorry for the delay and see you guys Sunday- and have a great couple of days until then!!
> 
> 4/16 EDIT: So, yeah, turns out I’m missing this past week’s chapter after all. I’m so sorry you guys, life has just been really busy lately (RUDE) and writing time has been eluding me. The next chapter _will_ be posted this Friday. Thank you for your patience and have a wonderful week.  <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex goes to John’s house for the first time. Meet the Laurens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO!!! So, I apologize for missing last week’s update, but here’s chapter 5. I loved writing this one, so I hope you guys enjoy. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and enjoy!

Alex actually wasn’t sure why he had never been to John’s house before. 

It wasn’t like he’d been avoiding it or anything, or that John had never tried to invite him, but today was the very first time he had ever stepped inside the Laurens home. It was just Alex and John that day, considering Herc’s mom needed him for something or another and Lafayette had an orthodontist appointment (he’d broken his retainer _again_ ) and they’d both be getting there later, so they walked into the house just the two of them, side by side after school ended.

“John?” a yell came from somewhere deep inside the house as the front door swung open, John dropping his backpack off on the floor near the doorway and Alex following his example, toeing off his shoes and nudging them out of the way as well. 

”Sí, Abuela. ¡Buenas tardes!” John called back in turn, slipping into Spanish instantly. He offered a smile over his shoulder at Alex, knowing the younger boy understood every word he was saying. “Estoy con mi novio, también.”

There was a excited gasp, the voice cheerful with it’s response. “¡Ay, hola Alex!”

Alex laughed lightly, shrugging at John’s exasperated head shake and looking in the direction of the voice where the woman was somewhere upstairs. “¡Hola, señora!” he called back.

“Yeah, that was Abuela,” John chuckled, glancing in the direction of the voice. “We’ll probably run into her at some point today. She usually does her painting around now, and that’s probably the only reason she hasn’t come down here yet- I know she wants to meet you.”

“Yeah, I want to meet her, too,” Alex chuckled. He hadn’t gotten a chance to meet John’s family yet and, quite honestly, he was excited to see what they were like outside John’s stories and descriptions.

“But, anyway, this is it.” John threw his arms out to his sides, spinning around once to throw a grin at Alex as they walked farther into the house. “I know it’s not much, but it’s home,” he continued with a somewhat sheepish smile.

Alex followed behind, slower, soaking in the details of the house as he went. He didn’t want to risk missing a single thing. There was so much to take in, from the sights of the home to the sounds of muffled laughter from somewhere deep inside to the warm, musky scents wafting around, as if the house itself was as fragrant as a candle.

The home was decorated with small, neutral touches and deep, Spanish-influenced colors, warm and welcoming, but what really took the cake were the pictures almost everywhere Alex looked. Frames littered most open surfaces, and crayon-drawn scribbles on printer paper and the occasional incredibly realistic sketch (probably courtesy of John) covered the walls. Several large photos of grinning people were hung on canvases around the house. They featured just about everything; people, animals, landscapes, but most were focused on the family and the kids, baby pictures and school pictures and one black and white wedding photo sitting delicately and proudly on the wall of the foyer. Alex turned around in a slow, full circle, taking in the home around him with quiet awe. 

When Alex slowed to a stop again, John was standing in front of him, hands in pockets and shoulder scrunched, looking nervous but excited to see his reaction. ”What do you think?” he asked hesitantly, risking a small smile.

“I love it,” Alex said honestly as he walked over to one of the photos closest to him, letting his fingers drift over the smooth, polished wood of the frame as he studied the image inside. Within it, three boys piled on each other. A much younger John, wearing shorts and with much shorter hair, stumbled and laughed as a younger boy jumped on his back, and the last boy, maybe three at the oldest, seemed to be attempting to shove John over onto the grass with a look of extreme concentration on his small face. The sun was shining and the backyard the boys were playing in was large, the grass a brilliant green and a bit of a beautiful housing development visible behind the delicate wooden fence framing the property. “What’s this?”

John smiled as he walked to Alex’s side, expression softening at the photo. “That was back in South Carolina, actually,” he said, letting one hand rest on the edge of the table the frame sat upon as his gaze traced the image. “And that’s Harry and Jemmy, my two brothers. Jemmy’s the younger one.”

Letting his fingers graze the glass over the two younger boys, Alex breathed a chuckle. “They look like you.”

“A little,” John agreed. His hand moved over to another frame beside the first, featuring an old, smiling woman with grey hair tied back in a long, swaying braid and a young girl, curly hair semi-explosive, asleep in her arms. “And that’s my abuela, you already kind of met her, and my sister, Patsy. There’s four of us kids, and Abuela makes five.” John ripped his gaze away from the pictures to glance around the house, releasing a breath. “They’re also all here today, so we’ll probably be seeing some of them at some point. More than just shouting between stories of the house, too.”

Alex shrugged as they walked away from the pictures, John leading the unspoken way towards the stairs. “I don’t mind,” he said honestly. Alex only had one brother, and that was really only in name- he hadn’t seen James since their mom died, and he wasn’t planning on making a trip to catch up anytime soon. But, seeing the Laurens kids all smiling and laughing in the pictures did make him want to meet them even more, get to know the people John had grown up with. 

“You just want to head to my room?” John called over his shoulder as he walked ahead, Alex hurrying to catch up as he realized he’d slowed down in his thoughts. 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he called back, beginning to pick up a bit of a jog in order to reach John again. 

And that was when the bundle of golden fur practically _flew_ into Alex, knocking him into the ground instantly with two paws on his chest and what seemed like a bark of excitement, large, feathered tail wagging excessively. Before Alex could do more than blink in response, a large pink tongue was all over his face and the dog _still_ had him pinned on the ground, squirming over him excitedly. 

“If you-“ John glanced over his shoulder to see Alex attempting to gently shove the retriever off of him, and hissed a curse through his teeth as he hurried to his side. “Oh, god, _Mary-“_ John instantly grabbed the dog’s collar and heaved her off of his boyfriend, cringing in embarrassment and concern as he held the golden retriever back. “Bad dog,” he hissed, yanking once on her collar to further the words, then looked at back at Alex with a miserable look of apology on his face. “Oh, god, I am so sorry about that- she’s usually outside at this time and I blanked about her- _shit-“_

Alex sat up from the floor, using his sweatshirt sleeve to wipe dog drool off his face and laughing faintly, much to John’s surprise. “It’s okay, really,” he said, still trying to shake off the shock of almost being mauled by John’s dog but not perturbed about the incident. He shook his head slight as he looked towards the dog again, panting and straining against the grip John had on her collar as she tried to get to Alex again. “There were a lot of strays on Nevis, so seeing dogs pretty much everywhere was common. I’m okay.”

John looked relieved but still concerned. “Are you sure?” he asked, tugging the dog back to his side again when she gained a few inches, her nails scrabbling against the wooden floor and tail still wagging relentlessly. “Mary’s really friendly, but she can get kind of excited. I mean, you already saw the results of that.”

Smiling in amusement, Alex didn’t get up from the floor, instead looking up at John easily with his arm slung over his knee. “Your dog’s name is Mary?” he asked, the humor heard in his voice. 

“My dad named her,” John laughed. “He was kind of a fan of old-fashioned names, if you couldn’t tell. Even Patsy’s full name is Martha. But, seriously, are you sure you’ll be okay if I let her go?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” John muttered, looking doubtful, and released his hold on Mary’s collar. 

Immediately, the dog lunged forward towards Alex, tail wagging almost violently in her enthusiasm as she skidded to a stop before him. Alex didn’t let her knock him over this time, instead holding his own as he buried his hands in her fur in hello and laughed at her eagerness. Alex was grinning as he danced his hands up and down her sides, the dog wiggling around him in pleasure without an ounce of shame, panting in excitement.

“Wow, she really likes you,” John chuckled as he sat down beside the two, running his hand down the length of Mary’s back once before letting Alex have her all to himself again. “She _really_ likes you.”

“I haven’t been around a dog in ages.” Alex glanced up at John again, still smiling as Mary dropped to the ground, exposing her belly for Alex to rub. He obliged almost immediately, Mary’s legs flailing around in the air happily. “I really like _her_.”

John smiled in return, shaking his head. “Patsy probably let her in when she got home. I am sorry about the sneak attack part, though.”

Alex shook his head as well. He was still grinning. “It was fine.”

***

Mary followed the two boys upstairs to John’s room, padding up the stairs at Alex’s heels happily. John was still somewhat surprised at how quickly Mary had taken to Alex. It was incredible how fast the dog had started practically worshipping him, especially when she had never met the boy before.. 

“This one’s my room,” John explained as he swung a door open, one of the many in one long hallway, and Mary trotted in happily before him. “I’m the oldest, so I get my own.”

“Nice deal,” Alex agreed as they walked inside, but then froze in awe as he took in the room. John continued walking, turning back to look at his boyfriend with a somewhat sheepish, somewhat nervous smile. “Woah,” Alex uttered, gazing over the room in wonder. 

The room was _covered_ in art. Sketches were tacked to all four walls, overlapping each other, covering each other, with the occasional fully colored drawing making an appearance among the expanses of graphite. A few paintings hung here and there, and one was still propped up on an easel in the corner, likely left out to dry. Sketchbooks and pencils littered the desk and floor, one open on the unmade bed among the deserted school books and abandoned clothes slung over the sheets. The art covered the room even more than photos covered the downstairs, paper and canvases layered over each other, dozens and dozens of incredible pieces. Everywhere Alex looked, there was a drawing, something John had so clearly drawn with his own hand, brilliantly realistic and breathtakingly beautiful. 

And, more than almost any other subject, the drawings were of _him._

Alex’s likeness was scattered all over the room, quick, rough sketches and in depth studies alike. Drawings of him with his head thrown back in laughter, with the hint of smile he tended to wear when he was trying to hide his smirk, with his expression etched with deep concentration and focus, how Alex supposed he looked when he was writing. The sketches were photorealistic yet managed to catch Alex in the most beautiful and unsuspecting of poses, smiling or laughing or brooding and so amazingly real that it took Alex’s breath away. 

John looked nervous and slightly embarrassed, still wearing his skittish smile as he followed Alex’s gaze around the room, taking in his drawings at the same time his boyfriend did. When Alex’s eyes finally settled upon John again, the boy offered a strained chuckle. “So, uh, it turns out you’re really fun to draw,” he offered sheepishly. 

Alex walked to one of the walls, slowly moving along the room as he studied the images close up. Mary had long settled down in the corner of the room, curling up and tucking her nose in her golden red tail as she watched the boys, dark eyes doe-like and flickering as she followed their movements. “When did you do all these?” he asked softly. 

“Well, whenever,” John said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “When I was bored, when I couldn’t sleep.” He coughed slightly, looking uncomfortable. “When you were in the hospital. Whenever I had time, I guess.”

“They’re beautiful,” Alex said quietly, stopping in front of one drawing so realistic that he felt like he was looking in a mirror. 

“You think?” John said, hesitant hope in his voice. 

Alex turned away from the sketches, slight smile on his face. “I do.” He walked closer to John, stretching up to kiss him when he reached him. “Thank you.”

“JACKY HAS A BOYFRIEND!”

The boys sprang apart at the yell, the sound of pounding feet sprinting down the hall filling the room. John’s face immediately turned pink as he whirled on the cracked open door. “HARRY-“ he shouted back, but was immediately interrupted. 

“Jacky has a WHAT?!”

Letting out a miserable sigh, John turned to Alex with an apology written in his expression. “There’s Jemmy,” he muttered. “That means Harry must be telling people. Everyone knows you’re here now. Now we just have to wait on-“

“Remind him to use protection then!”

“-Patsy,” John winced. He looked a mix of mad, exasperated, amused and embarrassed, shooting another look of apology to Alex as he flung his door open. “KIDS!” he shouted into the hallway, voice loud and sharp. 

Within instants, his three siblings seemingly materialized before him, giggling and not looking the least bit sorry. Alex watched them from where he was partially hidden behind John in undisguised intrigue. All three of the kids heavily carried John’s features, the younger girl he assumed to be Patsy having super curly long hair braided into neat double French braids, the middle boy, likely Harry, with freckles possibly more numerous than even John’s and the youngest boy who couldn’t have been more than five (Jemmy, Alex’s mind supplied) with the exact same mischievous hazel in his eyes as his older brother. Mary trotted out of the room now that the door was open, sniffing briefly at the kids before heading downstairs, apparently deeming the situation to boring to continue witnessing. 

For a long moment, no one spoke, the kids seeming to hold in their laughs as John surveyed them sternly, expression a glare without much malice. But then he exhaled, shaking his head. “Just please don’t scare Alex off that fast,” he finally sighed, clearly fighting off his amusement and trying not to let his good humor show on his face. 

Unfortunately, these three had a lifetime of experience with telling when John was actually mad and not. Immediately they saw through his front and only grinned wider, the youngest boy giggling and bouncing on his toes as if he couldn’t make himself stay still for too long, grinning a gap-toothed smile. 

“Well, is he your boyfriend?” Harry asked seriously. The seven-year-old looked very invested in the answer as he peered around John at Alex, green eyes scrutinizing. 

John stepped aside to display Alex fully, Alex offering a weak wave and smile combo as the three stared at him curiously. “Yeah, actually. I’ve talked about him before. This is Alex.”

“Hi,” Alex said awkwardly. 

“He’s cute,” Patsy reported brightly.

John promptly slammed the door in their faces.

Alex could hear their trills of delighted laughter through the door as John turned back to the room, letting his back fall against the wood with a look of exasperated fondness. “I’m sorry about them,” he said, smiling helplessly with a breathy chuckle.

“It’s totally fine,” Alex laughed. “They seem great.”

“They are,” John sighed, laughing slightly as well. “They’re all little assholes and way too smart for their own good, but deep down, they are.”

Pushing off the door and walking into the room, John cleared a space in the clutter of his bed and sat down, making himself comfortable. “Hey, you said you wanted to talk to me about something earlier. Something about a conversation you had with the Washingtons last night or something, right?” He propped his arms behind him, looking up at Alex with an easy smile. “What’s up?”

Alex’s stomach clenched. He had actually managed to forget about that, for just a little while at least. He still needed to tell John. Despite the pleasant, casual atmosphere they had taken on since they’d been home, Alex knew that he had to tell his boyfriend about the trial; it wasn’t fair to keep it from him. John deserved to know. “Oh, uh, yeah. About that.”

Alex walked over and sat beside John on the bed, feeling the mattress dip and multiple art supplies shift and roll as a result of it. He fidgeted with a hair tie on his wrist, slipping his fingers under it and stretching the elastic, avoiding John’s gaze even as his boyfriend watched him carefully, sensing his discomfort. “Uh, well, you know the whole King case?”

John’s expression instantly hardened, looking concerned and pissed at the very mention simultaneously. But he still held his gentle worry. “Yeah?” he said carefully. 

“Well, the trial is in a few weeks,” Alex blew out a long breath, his hands stilling on the hair tie, “and I’m kind of testifying at it.”

_”What?”_

Alex risked glancing up to find John staring at him in horror, concern and anger lacing together in his expression. Alex released a breath, nodding, voice soft. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

 _”Shit, Alex,”_ John muttered, voice soft. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Alex returned. 

“And there’s nothing you can do to get out of it?”

Alex’s gaze flickered up to meet John’s, resigned determination in his expression. “Well, Yeah, there probably is, but I’m not going to. I want to testify. It was my choice.”

_”What?”_

“I can’t let him do what he did to me to anyone else,” Alex said, voice firm as he returned to the familiar mantra he’d been using to power him through since he found out about this entire thing, his motivation. “If I don’t testify, there’s a good chance that he’ll win the case, and he’ll be back on the streets. I can’t let that happen.”

There was a long, quiet moment that followed, where John stared at the floor and Alex silently cursed his stupidity of ruining a perfectly good moment. But then John’s gaze found his again, firm and gentle and supportive. “Okay,” he said. “I get it. I’m here if you need me.”

Alex smiled, nervous and unsure but grateful. “Okay,” he whispered in return. “Thanks.”

“Well, duh. I’m always here if you need me. I thought that was just a given by this point.”

“I know.”

***

It was a few hours later that Hercules and Lafayette showed up, Herc complaining of his family dinner while Lafayette came wielding a brand new retainer and protests of surely sadistic orthodontists. Although the four of them quickly settled into their normal joking, light hearted atmosphere in the organized chaos of John’s room, Alex’s anxiety and nervousness from earlier talk of the trial had yet to settle down. He smiled occasionally and laughed every once in a while, but stayed majorly silent. And, of course, Hercules noticed. 

“Hey, you good, man?” he asked, expression taking on a note of concern as he stared at Alex. John and Laf quickly quieted as well as they looked at Alex uneasily, both knowing exactly what was going on but not wanting to break Alex’s trust. 

But, this was Hercules. It was safe. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Alex said, shrugging noncommittally. “I, uh, there’s just some stuff going on with the King case that’s been messing me up a little lately.”

Herc’s brow lowered fractionally. He was hesitant, careful not to push, but clearly worried nonetheless. He sat on John’s bed, looking down at Alex where the boy was sitting on the floor, leaning forward with his hands hanging loosely between his knees. “What’s going on?” he asked carefully, slowly, the concern coloring his voice. 

“I’m testifying at King’s trial,” Alex said simply, not beating around the bush. He pursed his lips slightly, letting his expression betray his nerves just a little as he blew out a single breath. He could feel John at his side, warm and present, grounding him. “It’s- yeah, it’s in a couple of weeks.”

Hercules blinked, worry, anger and sadness flickering over his expression, following his thoughts. But then he just scoffed lightly, nonchalantly, a slight, vaguely strained but still present smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Well, you are just gonna have to smoke King alive in that trial,” he said confidently. “He is gonna _burn_ with you testifying.”

Alex laughed slightly, somewhat surprised, a little confused, but still appreciative as he attempted a smile, feeling the tension knotting in his stomach loosen slightly. “Thanks.”

“Seriously though, can we just imagine this for a second here? Alex, debate champion and all around badass, ripping King to shreds in front of an entire courtroom? Man, it’s gonna be awesome,” Hercules continued, laughing with the words. 

Alex knew exactly what Herc was doing, trying to inject humor into such a miserable situation. He could tell that John and Laf caught it too, but none of them protested, instead laughing along and adding in their own comments in the safety of John’s bedroom. It felt good to smile with these guys, to laugh off the exact thing he’d been stressing over ever since he found out about last night. It was a welcome relief. 

And yes, Alex was still freaking out about this, and yes, it was still terrifying, but, somehow, these guys made it just a little bit better. 

Weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAMSSSSSS
> 
> HISTORICAL NOTES: All of John’s siblings were real people, and the nicknames they have were their historical nicknames. He had one other sister, Mary Elizabeth, but she would have been an infant with this timeline and that didn’t work with John’s backstory. So, I made her into a dog. You’re welcome. 
> 
> Alright, so here’s the deal, guys. My schedule is super, super busy lately, and I’ve really been having a hard time with getting decent chapters out on time. Because of that, I’m going to start posting a chapter every other Friday instead of every Friday. I love writing this story and I love talking to you guys, so I definitely don’t want to put this on hiatus or anything, but this will give me a little more time to write out each chapter and get it to a good quality. Also, on the bright side, this might open up some time for some one shots in the universe as well... maybe. Feel free to comment any ideas if you have them! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and reminder to make someone laugh today (bonus points if they seriously need a laugh). Have a really awesome two weeks and see you next Friday!! <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John, Hercules and Lafayette have a chat about the trial, and then Thomas Jefferson makes an entrance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Chapter 6 here. Let's do this.
> 
> Quick warning for a very brief mention of homophobic language. It's only one word, but stay safe, guys.
> 
> Also, my beta Jaysong's back! Yay! 
> 
> Next chapter in two weeks, and enjoy!

“How do you guys feel about this whole thing?”

Herc blew out a long, measured breath, pushing off from the table in front of him as he slouched down in his chair. His dark eyes flickered up to John at the question, concerned and unsure, and his arms crossed over his chest, burying his hands in the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “I don’t know, man,” he said honestly, looking conflicted. His beanie, forever perched on his head, pressed against the back of his chair. “I’m worried about him, obviously, but the kid seems really set on this. I honestly don’t know how much he even cares what we think about it; I think he’s doing this no matter what we do.”

 _”Oui,_ I agree,” Lafayette sighed. His fingers drummed restlessly along the edge of the table, his expression grimly resigned but still pinched, like he wasn’t quite certain about what he should be feeling and looking torn between several options of emotions. “This trial is going to be very hard on little Alex, but I do not know if we hold the power to be able to change his mind. He is, how you say, very stubborn.”

“That’s sure true.” John propped his elbows on the edge of Herc’s kitchen table, leaning towards the other two boys and over the beat up wood with his chin resting on his folded hands, expression concerned but undeniably frustrated as he blew out a sharp exhale. Homework lay forgotten and half finished on the table before all of them while pencils sat haphazardly scattered across the papers, but Alex had a doctor’s appointment today and they took the opportunity while they had it. Ever since Alex broke the news of the trial to John and Herc yesterday, there had been an unspoken agreement that a discussion about it was coming, and sure enough John was the one to bring up the subject not long after school was let out that Thursday afternoon and they arrived at Herc’s house.

“John, our Alex is a fighter, and he does what he believes to be right,” Laf reminded gently, his long legs folded under him with hands settled in his lap. Although his brow was still creased in something resembling troubled, his expression had finally seemed to settle on gentle but remorseful, eyes soft. “Please do not be mad at him for this. He thinks himself to be doing the right thing.”

“Oh, I’m not mad at him,” John was quick to correct, voice rough and eyes sharp as he shifted restlessly in his seat, “I’m mad at what those people are expecting from this poor kid literally _two weeks_ after he got out of the _hospital_ from what he had to survive at King’s hand. I’m pissed that Alex feels like he has to fix this when he’s the one that’s still being fixed himself. It’s not his responsibility, yet he’s still risking his own health by trying to take this situation into his own hands. So, yeah, I’m not mad at Alex. I’m mad at King. Mad at what he did to Alex, and what he’s still managing to do to the poor kid even after Alex survived the first round of his treatment. That’s what I’m pissed off about.”

Herc’s eyes narrowed slightly, suspicious and careful as he picked up on the tenseness in John’s posture, the irritation lining his expression, the overall aura of misdirected anger and worry surrounding the boy. “John,” he said shortly, cautiously. Laf cast him a look of apprehension from across the table, eyes wide and concerned.

John’s gaze snapped up to meet Herc’s, sharp and increasingly desperate. “What?” he spat, the words likely harsher than he had intended as his expression took on a frantic edge.

“Breathe, kid,” Hercules said softly, understanding but firm. He still sat low in his chair but stayed unmoving, staring at John with gentle but rigid command. “This situation sucks, yeah, but we can’t do much to control it. It’s Alex’s choice in the end.”

 _”Oui,_ it is, and I believe he has officially made up his mind,” Laf agreed drily. 

Still looking upset but trying to shake off the remnants of his general anger at the situation within itself, John took a faltering nod, releasing a long, forced breath as he slouched down in his chair. “I just wish he didn’t have to do this,” he muttered, almost to himself as he buried his hands in his pockets.

“We all wish that, man,” Herc said grimly. “Believe me. You’re not alone there.”

“What about Alex himself, though? Like, do you actually think he’s doing okay with this?” John asked, biting his lip slightly. “He seems pretty chill with it, but…”

Laf sighed, looking pained as his fingers beat faster still against the edge of the table. “He had a panic attack when Washington and Martha told him of the trial,” he said tightly, expression regretful. “As Martha tells it, the attack was severe.”

“Aw, hell,” John groaned, dragging a hand over the lower half of his face.

“So he is struggling with this,” said Herc grimly. Despite the relaxed way he was sitting, his expression was tense and on edge, both worried and pissed and looking torn between the two. 

“Yes, he is,” Lafayette agreed quietly. “I do not know how we are going to help him. He hurts, yet he accepts no assistance.”

Hercules shook his head. “That’s just Alex, though,” he pointed out, one shoulder lifting in a half shrug. “He pushes away any attempts at help unless you shove them down his throat. And, you know, maybe that’s what we’ll have to do. Just force our support on him until he accepts it.”

“That sounds mildly inhumane,” John said drily. 

Herc glared at him without much malice. “You got any better ideas?” he asked, frustrated and worried. 

“It may not even fall upon us to help him, in the end,” Lafayette suggested, voice quiet but hopeful. “It appears that Washington and Martha have it under control at the moment. It may come down to just having to be present for him, and that is all.”

“Laf, we’re his best friends, and I’m his boyfriend,” John said, haughty yet firm. The fire was quick to light again in his eyes, looking relieved to have something to be upset at again. “It’s our problem as much as it is his. I refuse to let him go through this alone, no matter what you hope might happen to get the load off of us.”

“John, I am not suggesting that we abandon him,” Lafayette broke in, looking mildly alarmed at the speed of John’s accusations and holding up his hands placatingly. “I simply think this may, how you say, be over our heads. We will always be there for little Alex, of course, but I just do not know how we will help him through this.”

“Chill, John,” Hercules monotoned, his voice taking on a note of warning now that John went after Laf.

John seemed to forcibly deflate once again, now taking on a note of guilt as he realized how quickly accusing he was being. “Yeah, I know, I’m sorry,” he muttered, pulling a rough hand over the back of his neck. His eyes flickered up to Lafayette’s, apologetic and concerned as the anger melted away to reveal the somewhat panicked anguish behind it. “I’m just- I’m really worried about him. I’m not sure how we’re going to do this either.”

Herc sighed, expression grave. “Honestly, I’m just worried that this is all gonna catch up with him soon,” he said plainly. “He’s gonna break down at some point, now that he’s had time to process this. I don’t know when, or where, or who he’ll be with when it happens, but he’s gonna break sometime.” He shook his head, eyes unfocused. “It’s inevitable.”

***

Hercules had never in his life been so freaking dismayed to be right.

It all happened in algebra Friday afternoon, ones of the class of which the boys shared with Thomas Jefferson, Aaron Burr and James Madison. It was before the bell rang to announce the beginning of class that Thomas sidled over to the boys, brown jacket pressed and stroll casual. The class was reveling in the unsupervised few minutes before the teacher arrived, lounging across desks and chatting in loud, unrestrained voices, completely unfocused and distracted even as Thomas edged his way through the smattering of giggling girls currently infesting over the center of the room.

The boys’ conversation immediately stuttered to a stop when they caught sight of him, the four of them staring at Thomas uneasily as he approached with nothing but a few subtle, clueless glances at each other. Alex was sitting at his desk while John was leaning against the edge of the surface and Hercules had a hand propped on the back of Alex’s chair, Laf standing beside the desk and pausing in the middle of an animated story as Thomas walked up. Although Lafayette only looked curious, John’s suspicion was clear and present, and Alex looked unsettled, staring up at Thomas with the inquiery of what he wanted in his eyes.

“Uh, hello,” Alex said, raising his eyebrows slightly in query.

Thomas’ gaze flickered up and down Alex, and Hercules could just see John automatically draw closer to Alex protectively. “Hello yourself,” the boy drawled, stopping before the desk and sliding his hands into his pockets. James Madison, across the room, was watching him with a dry expression, Aaron Burr standing still and cold at the shorter boy’s side as Thomas cast a single glance their way, more cursory than purposeful as Herc continued to watch him warily. Turning back to the boys, his gaze settled on Alex again, expression smooth yet still holding the smug note that seemed to be a permanent additon to his face by this point. “So, Alex,” he began, voice slow and drawn out, “your hospital stay all right?”

He wasn’t sure what it was, but something about Thomas’ expression, or posture, or the way he talked, gave Herc a really bad feeling about this coming exchange. His hand moved from the back of Alex’s chair to land almost mindlessly on Alex’s shoulder, silent but present as he watched the exchange circumspectly.

Alex’s eyes narrowed, looking as if he was unsure of what Thomas wanted and uncertain of how to work around this. “Um, yeah, it was fine,” he said flatly. “I mean, it was the hospital, so.”

Lafayette’s gaze flickered from Thomas to Alex nervously, looking equally unsure but trying to keep the peace. “Alex is doing much better now,” he piped up helpfully.

“Ah,” Thomas nasalized, one manicured eyebrow lifting fractionally. He stared condescendingly down at Alex, looking as if he was relishing the opportunity to stand so far above the younger boy with Alex sitting down as he was. “I would hope so, especially after what that King character apparently did to him. A terrible situation, really.”

In a single instant, the suspiscion lining Alex’s expression lifted, instead replaced by dismal, somewhat stricken surprise as he was caught off guard. He paused for a moment, a crease appearing between his eyebrows in confusion, eyes flickering over Thomas’ expression in alarm. “W-what?” he sputtered, a somewhat subdued sense of panic in his eyes.

Herc suddenly found himself squeezing Alex’s shoulder very tightly indeed.

Thomas made a sympathetic sucking sound with his teeth, touching his fingertips to his lips with an expression that resembled apologetic. But, even with the feigned remorse, his eyes still held a glint of sadistic amusement that made Herc’s stomach clench painfully. “Oh, yeah, beaten by your own foster father?” he asked grimly, exhaling in faux empathy. “That sure had to be tough.”

John stepped forward, expression livid. “How do you know that?” he demanded lowly, eyes blazing as his gaze leveled on Thomas’. “How the _hell_ do you know that?”

“My mom filled me in on the gossip she got from the other nurses,” Thomas said dismissively, flapping one hand through the air like he was simply batting away an irritable insect. “Apparently King’s arrest was quite the scene.”

“Uh, yeah, we know, we were there,” Hercules growled, eyes narrowing. “What are you getting at, Jefferson? What do you want with us?”

“Just to check in with our Alex here,” Thomas said, feinged surprise written across his expression as a hand came up to his chest, sprawled across the front of his jacket as if offended. “Just didn’t want everything he went through to go under the radar, of course.”

“Actually, for what Alex had to survive to go under the radar is kind of exactly what we want,” John said, his voice dangerous. His hand had settled itself on Alex’s arm so that both he and Herc were in contact with the boy, who was still sitting at his desk, looking shell-shocked and stricken. “So, really, we’d appreciate it if you shut your damn mouth and stayed out of this.”

Thomas scoffed, swiping a dismissive hand through the air. “Of course,” he drawled. “But, really, it would be unfortunate if, say, the news of Alex’s foster father did get out, wouldn’t it?” He lifted one manicured hand, inspecting his nails carelessly as he repeated himself, almost to himself. “It would be quite the shame.”

“What do you _want,_ Jefferson?” John snarled, looking ready to lunge. 

Thomas’ gaze flickered up to meet Alex’s again, just a hint of smugness in the dark hues. “Nothing,” he said breezily. “Just wanted to let you know what I know. Just in case it comes up in the future.” His gaze dragged over Alex again, up and down, hungry and intrigued. “Just in case there was something I needed in the future. I already have dirt on the rest of you, just thought I’d make sure I got dirt on the last new little pity member. Just one more throwaway addition to the faggy freak squad, am I right?” 

Seeing what was about to happen an instant before it did, Hercules released Alex’s shoulder and sprung to restrain John instead, who had swiped at Thomas with a snarl just a split second too late to avoid being held back. Herc caught him just as he sprang forward, the force of his attack enough to tug Hercules along with him for a split instant.

Unfortunately, Herc had failed to consider Alex himself.

Now with no one still in contact with him to constrain him, Alex had lunged up from his seat and across the desk within a split instant. The resounding _crack_ that resulted from his fist’s contact with Thomas’ face was something that froze the entire classroom in an action remnescent of the first time Alex had nearly broken Jefferson’s nose, just a few weeks prior, everyone’s eyes snapping to the commotion in the same exact instant that Mr. Knox happened to stroll in through the door and see exactly what had just happened.

And that’s when the shit really hit the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These guys have really gotta work on the whole Alex's-fist-meeting-Thomas'-nose-thing, seriously. 
> 
> Well, I hope you guys had an awesome past two weeks, and I hope these next two weeks are even better. Also, just because I'm curious, how did you guys decide on your usernames? There's almost always a story there, and I've been wondering about yours. Comment if you'd like to share. If anyone's curious about the story behind mine, I'm more than willing to tell y'all, but this author's note would be kind of super long if I wrote it all here so I think I'll just save it for the comments ;)
> 
> Have a really spectacular two weeks, guys, and the next chapter will be posted Friday, May 18. Thanks so much for reading, and I honestly love you all. Seriously, every last one of you is awesome, and your support never fails me. Thanks.
> 
> You're absolutely incredible, you know that? <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha drives Alex home, the boys have a talk, and Washington goes into overprotective dad mode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Chapter 7 here, I actually really enjoyed writing this chapter so I hope you guys like reading it. Also, so sorry it's a day late, life's been busy lately. Hope you like the chapter anyway though.
> 
> Thanks for reading and enjoy!

It was snowing.

It wasn’t as if Alex hadn't seen snow before, in the few years he’d been out of Nevis since he entered the foster system, but snow still never failed to mesmerize him as if it was the very first time he’d witnessed it. Every single time the white flakes drifted down from the dove grey sky, it was like a small miracle, a small gift within itself, the fragile, frozen specks settling in his hair, nestling into the shoulders of his coat, perching on the fabric of his gloves, melting on his tongue. 

Slowly piling up on the rim of the closed, cold car window his temple was pressed against, his fingertip tracing the ridges and valleys the tiny flakes built up in the corner of the glass. Being brushed away by the windshield wipers currently swiping over the wide, slightly fogged window before him. Casting a soft, reflective light over the sharp, cut, hard expression Martha was wearing, her hands braced on the wheel with her wedding ring catching the light, her posture tall but forcibly relaxed in the driver’s seat, her dark eyes unreadable as she drove them home from the school.

Alex just traced the collected snowflakes with his finger, his jean-clad legs curled up beneath him to make himself as small as possible and drawn as close to the passenger door as his seat allowed, his bruised, cut knuckles throbbing distantly under the bandages the nurse had offered him as he watched the increasingly white world sweep by just outside the passenger seat window with the kind of determined pointlessness that came with trying very, very hard not to think.

Martha was really, really pissed off.

Washington was probably even more pissed off, if his reaction to the last time something like this had happened was anything to go off of.

Alex hadn’t the slightest idea of how this was going to end.

The last thing he truly remembered clearly and rationally, without the red tint creeping in on the edges of his vision and the shock of what he just did clouding his mind, was Jefferson’s taunting, or at least the beginning of it. Then Thomas said something and Alex snapped and there was Herc and John dragging him away and Mr. Knox yelling over the chaos and somehow Alex was in the principal’s office and Thomas was with the nurse and there was a blue gel ice pack pressed against his knuckles and _damn_ Principal Franklin looked _mad_ and holy shit he didn’t know Martha could even physically look that scary, staring him down in the office with her expression set and sharp eyes guarded, and he just stared up at her with eyes wide but without a single shred of regret.

Then there was talk of _’two day out of school suspension’_ and _’no excuses for violence’_ and _’Alexander, please think about what happened today, think of how you can correct this, I know you’re better than this’_ and then there were Martha’s hands on his shoulders, soft but firm, as she steered him out of the school, into the cold, brisk wind of the outdoors and towards her car, sitting patient and waiting in the otherwise sparsely occupied parking lot. 

Now, though, it was just Alex and Martha, sitting in a silent car as the snow drifted down around them, just like the inside of a snow globe, clean and delicate and white.

Alex shifted in his seat, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat and legs pulled tight to his chest. His backpack slouched on the floor of the car, unzipped and threatening to spill his notebooks and pencils, abandoned and forgotten where he had dumped it as he got into the car. From one of the zippers hung a small, slightly worse-for-wear pom-pom, the equal combination of bottle green, royal blue and bright white yarn and created, tied, and trimmed to perfection by Hercules not too long ago. He’d made it for Alex when he was bored one day in the chair beside the hospital bed, winding the yarn and bantering with John as Lafayette snuggled beside Alex in the bed with a book in hand, with his free arm around Alex’s shoulders and John’s hand on Alex’s ankle and Herc’s gaze flickering back to Alex every-so-often even in the middle of a good natured bickering session, just to make sure the younger boy was okay.

God, Alex really hoped they weren’t mad at him for this.

Tearing his gaze off the pom-pom, Alex ventured another look at Martha, subtle and hesitant. She was still staring determinedly at the road ahead of her, steering the car through the snowy roads with careful precision, her expression as if it was carved of stone. She still wore her work clothes, her white dress pants and sweater the color of cider light against the dark interior of the car, with her hair twisted up into a sleek, high bun. Her lipstick creased slightly as she puckered her mouth slightly in thought, eyes set straight ahead and chin lifted, letting the silence linger with the kind of purposeful meaning that only Martha could convey. 

But then her gaze shifted over to Alex, just for a second, as if she was just checking on how he was doing. Her lips pulled into something that wasn’t quite a frown but wasn’t quite a smile when she saw him staring back at her, a small, ambiguous tug on the corner of her mouth that showed something like sad, grim companionship, not happy with Alex but not quite entirely furious either, her eyes softening for only a moment as Alex gazed back, eyes flickering over her face as he froze in the intensity of her gaze. 

Then her eyes flickered back to the road and her expression smoothed over again, her hands loose on the wheel and wrists relaxed as she turned left on Mercer. 

Alex didn’t know what to think. 

***

Lafayette appeared at the door of Washington’s room right before seventh period, knocking hesitantly on the wall with an expression that appeared to be equal parts worried, hesitant and determined, his books hefted in his arms. 

Washington glanced up from the papers he was grading with his red pen still in hand, expectant and a little surprised by the sudden entrance of a student during his free period. But, at seeing his foster son, the surprise dissipated to be replaced with something resembling fond, tired resignation. John and Herc were almost definitely waiting in the hall for news if Laf was being sent in as a spokeperson, which would mean Laf would have questions about what happened today, and Washington wasn’t entirely sure if he’d have acceptable answers to the inquiries. 

He knew little more than the rumors that were floating around the teacher’s lounge and what Franklin had told him about the fight, despite his best attempts to scrounge up the details from anyone willing to tell him, and Martha had insisted on being to one to leave her job to take care of this, so he still didn’t even know what had actually happened today. Actually, Lafayette could likely be helpful with filling in what he didn’t know. Perhaps it was for the best that his son sought him out.

Lafayette was still hovering near the door as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to come any closer. “Hello,” Washington said mildly, the greeting a permission to enter the room. 

Laf came in just past the doorway, twisting his hands and looking nervous but uncharacteristically set, expression determined. _”Bonsoir.”_

Washington waited for more, but Lafayette stopped there, looking hesitant. Smiling faintly, sadly in understanding, Washington pushed away the papers he was grading, leaning forward over his desk with his hands folded in front of him. “This is about Alex,” he guessed not so wildly, the worry in Laf’s expression enough to confirm him. 

“Is he okay?” Lafayette asked without preamble, voice soft. He hugged his books to his chest, looking somewhat fearful even if his gaze did scream stubbornness. Washington knew Laf he wasn’t scared of Washington himself, but of what Alex may have had to face as a consequence of his actions. After hearing that Alex had flung himself at Thomas for the second time in just over a month, Washington could certainly sympathize with that feeling.

Washington softened slightly, seeing the genuine concern in Lafayette’s words and knowing just how scary it must have been to see one of his best friends sent to the principal’s office and not hearing another thing since. “I’m sure he is,” he said gently.

Lafayette looked doubtful.

Easing up into a standing position, Washington stretched after sitting for so long. Cartilage popped in his knees with the movement, back aching from time spent in a cheap chair. “I‘m sure he is,” he repeated himself, firmer this time, walking around his desk to stand in front of it, leaning back against the desk with his hands braced against the edge of the smooth wood. “Martha said he was a bit shaken up when she arrived, which is understandable, but aside from that we every reason to believe that Alex is just fine.”

Although he still looked worried, Lafayette appeared at least slightly more at ease. “I am glad to hear it,” he said, truly meaning the words. “We have not been able to contact him since he left class, so we were unsure of how he may be. John especially got a bit, er, concerned.” Biting his lip, Lafayette met Washington’s eyes again, hesitant and uncertain. “What consequences have been given to him?”

“Two days of out of school suspension, starting Monday,” Washington said. 

“Oh,” Lafayette said, the relief momentarily flooding his expression. _“Bein._ We feared the punishment may be far worse.”

Washington shook his head. “Me too.” 

His gaze settling on Lafayette’s, exhaling slightly as he twitched a small, grim smile. “What happened today, Laf?” he asked, voice genuine in his lack of knowledges as he gazed at his foster son. “What was it Thomas did that made Alex snap?”

Lafayette sighed, looking pained at the mere memory. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, appearing as if he didn’t wish to go back to that conversation. “Well, it was very complicated,” he said hesitantly, voice slow. “Many things were said.”

Washington’s smile faded into a small frown, brow furrowing as he recognized Laf’s attempts to dance around the question. His voice was still gentle, but firmer, urging. “Lafayette?”

“Thomas now knows about the abuse Alex experienced,” Laf blurted out. “Jefferson attempted to use it as blackmail against Alex. It was, er, when he called us, how you say, ‘a faggy freak squad’ that Alex truly lost control of himself.”

Oh hell no. 

Washington blinked, once. Twice. Lafayette looked terrified at himself and his graceless delivery, clutching his notebooks forever closer to his chest as he waited for the explosion. Washington recognized this, of course, and really did try to keep down his reaction, but there is only so much a man is capable of.

“He did what?” he asked mildly. His voice was remarkably steady, level, as if he was asking for today’s weather to be repeated instead of what that son of a bitch of a boy had said to his child.

Wincing almost violently, Lafayette was quick to take on a placating quality, rushing to continue. “Thomas’ mother told him of King. He simply thought he had dirt on Alex, and he was quick to assure Alex knew what he knew.”

“He tried to _blackmail_ Alex with this?” Washington repeated, voice still miraculously even.

Lafayette winced again. _”Oui.”_

Washington nodded, bowing his head as he blew out a long, calm breath. His hands pressed into the edge of the desk behind him, steading and bracing, the sharp wood against his palms grounding enough to keep him in the moment. Jaw clenching, the pressure of his teeth gritting together ebbing and flowing was just enough to keep him in control. “And Alex broke Thomas’ nose, yes?”

“Er, I am not sure,” said Lafayette, sounding uncertain and somewhat confused at the question.

Exhaling once more, long and steady, Washington relaxed his jaw and released his hold on the edge of his desk. He looked up once again, eyes edging on dangerous as he met Lafayette’s gaze. “He better have,” he muttered. Pushing away from his desk, he began walking towards the door with long, even strides. Without looking at Lafayette, he said in a level voice, “Thank you for telling me, son.”

Lafayette’s eyes widened as he hastened to follow Washington, scrambling around desks and struggling to keep his hold on his books in his hurry. “Wait!” he yelped, almost tripping over a chair. “What are you doing?”

Washington strode through the door and turned into the hall, unsurprised to find John and Hercules waiting there for Lafayette. “Hello, boys,” he said to them, ignoring the surprised, frozen way both students were staring at him as if they expected to be chastised for eavesdropping and beginning to pace down the hallway, in the direction of Principal Franklin’s office.

“Washington!” Lafayette yelled after his foster father as he skid out of the room, watching the teacher stalk away and sounding on the edge of panicked. “Where are you going?!”

“To have a talk with Principal Franklin,” Washington called over his shoulder, not slowing. “Alex is not the only one who deserves to be punished for this.”

With that, he turned the corner of the hallway, leaving the three boys standing outside his classroom door and staring after him dumbfoundedly.

Herc blinked. “You know, Washington’s kind of a badass,” he said bluntly.

Lafayette chuckled weakly, still looking vaguely worried but accepting defeat that Washington was going to do whatever he wanted no matter what he thought of it. _”Oui,”_ he agreed shakily and with a hint of an exasperated smile, still staring after his foster father, “he is the baddest ass of all.”

***

Alex’s perfectly peaceful afternoon was interrupted with a startlingly loud, nearly violent banging on his door, causing his gaze to snap up from his book with alarmed, wide eyes. “Yo, kid, open up!” a voice accompianied the knocking, yelling through the wood of the door, loud but cheerful.

“Seriously, you couldn’t have thought you’d be able to get rid of us that easy,” another voice joined the first, exasperated but smiling. “You’re supposed to be the smart one out of us.”

“I am sorry, _mon ami,_ they know where the spare key is kept,” Lafayette piped up, laughing but sounding genuinely apologetic. “There was nothing I could have done to stop them.”

Someone knocked again, sounding as if they were attempting to knock the door down.

 _”Dude!”_ John complained loudly.

Alex shook his head, chuckling softly to himself as he clambered off his bed, crossing the room. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he laughed, book still open in his hand as he pulled the door open. Herc, Laf and John stood before him, John’s fist posed to knock once again.

Immediately, Hercules was pushing past the other two to get to Alex, placing his large hands on Alex’s shoulders and gaze scanning over him as if he was checking all limbs were still in place. “How are you? Are you okay?” he demanded, fretting instincts instantly taking over.

Gently, Alex pushed Herc’s hands away, smiling in understanding but taking a step back. “I’m fine, Herc, I promise,” he insisted, but John was already next in line to mother-hen, pulling Alex over to the bed and sitting him down before plopping down beside him. 

“Can I see your hand?” he asked, looking pointedly at the bandages covering Alex’s knuckles. “You were bleeding when you left Knox’s class.”

“Guys, seriously, I’m okay,” Alex protested, but John had already taken his injured hand within his own, gently unwrapping the bandages and swearing at the appearance of Alex’s bruised, split skin. “It’s not even that bad!”

“Yeah, I think we’re better qualified to be the judges of that,” John retorted sharply. As usual, his anger at the situation was the first to bleed through, looking up at Alex severely with his hazel eyes hard and keen. “You’ve got to be more careful, Alex. Today could of ended really, really badly, do you get that?”

Herc’s eyes narrowed slightly, leaning against the wall beside the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. “John,” he said in warning, voice placating.

John looked at him fiercely, but didn’t protest. Breathing out, he turned back to Alex’s hand, frowning as he examined his beat up knuckles. “Holy shit, you really did a number on yourself,” he murmured, not further acknowledging Hercules but voice softening anyway, the anger fading. His hands were exceptionally gentle as he rewrapped the coverings. Alex sighed in resignation at the ministrations, giving into the hovering as Lafayette crawled on the bed with them, beginning to stroke his fingers through Alex’s hair in the tactile way of worrying he always seemed to possess. “That’s gotta hurt, Alex.”

Alex rolled his eyes with a breath of laugh, taking his hand back when John finished and very firmly refusing to admit that Laf’s hands in his hair actually felt kind of good. “You should have seen the other guy,” he said sagely.

“Speaking of,” Hercules spoke up, sitting down on the side of Alex that John wasn’t occupying, “do we know whatever happened with Thomas?”

Lafayette chuckled, fingers deftly but gently working out a tange in the dark strands his hands were still buried in. “Aside from Washington hunting Franklin down to make sure Thomas was punished for what he did to provoke Alex? No.”

Alex looked up sharply (much to Lafayette’s protests, for it messed up his work with his hair), startled. “Washington did what?” 

“Oh, it was awesome, dude,” Hercules laughed. He leaned back easily onto Alex’s bedspread, elbows locked and hands braced behind him. “Washington looked like he was gonna smite someone.”

“God, I would have punched Jeffershit myself if I had the chance,” John muttered, eyes darkening.

Herc raised an eyebrow, leaning around Alex to give John a dry look. “I seem to remember you trying.”

“Heh,” said John. “Anyway, what’re you facing for this? We heard about the two day suspension, but did the Washington’s load anything else on you on top of that?”

“I’m grounded for a week,” Alex admitted. It seemed Lafayette was braiding now, likely beginning some sort of complicated style that would make Alex not want to touch it or even risk moving his head until he next absolutely had to wash his hair in fear of messing it up. “Wait, does Washington or Martha know you’re here? I don’t know the exact grounding restrictions, but I’d be willing to bet that this probably goes against them.”

Hercules flapped his hand dismissively, not looking concerned. “They gave up on trying to banish us during groundings a really long time ago,” he said. “They know it’s pointless. We just keep popping up again.”

“Like some freaky humanoid air bubbles,” John added helpfully.

Alex laughed, shrugging helplessly. “Okay,” he agreed, knowing any protests would be futile. “If you guys say so.”

John tugged the elastic out of his own hair, his curls cascading over his shoulders at the release. “Well, the punishment could definitely be worse,” he said brightly, flipping his hair and shaking out the kinks placed there by the hairtie. Flipping it back over and very narrowly missing Alex’s face with the flying curls, he began to scrape them back into a ponytail, catching the flyaways he had missed with his prior style. “And today’s Friday, so you’d be free again by next Friday, right?”

Alex frowned thoughtfully. “I think so.”

John grinned, twisting his hair into a bun and stretching his elastic over the curls to hold them. “Awesome,” he said, letting his hands drop back into his lap, “because the Schuylers are having a massive party Friday night and I want us to go.”

“Oh, I heard about that,” Hercules piped up. “Apparently most of the school is invited. It’s supposed to be a pretty big deal.”

“Really?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know anyone, though. Well, not much of anyone.”

“Exactly, so you’d be able to meet more people there.” Looking back at Alex, John smiled again, looking hopeful. “We’re on the invite list, all of us. If you want to go, I think it’d be a lot of fun.”

Alex tried a smile, a little nervous but willing. “Uh, sure,” he said, and John threw an arm over his shoulders in victory. Lafayette let out a squawk of protest at his braid being disturbed. 

“I really think you’ll enjoy yourself,” John said honestly, grinning at his boyfriend. “Thanks for agreeing to it. Peggy basically begged me to get you to come, so you get me off the hook with this too.”

Alex chuckled, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck somewhat skittishly. “Yeah, uh, no problem.”

“And, just so you know, you did awesome today with Jefferson,” Hercules said, bumping his shoulder gently with his own. “I don’t think we’ve said that yet. You did really good.”

Suddenly blushing, Alex ducked his head as he breathed a laugh. “Thanks,” he muttered, face feeling warm. “I mean, I lost control and punched him in the face for the second time in about a month, but thanks.”

“We think you likely broke his nose this time,” Lafayette added, his fingers still working down the length of Alex’s hair. “The blood was superfluous. Mr. Knox will likely struggle getting the stain out of his classroom’s carpet.”

“Wait, really? Shit.”

Hercules shook his head, smiling slightly. “He deserved it, Alex,” he reassured, squeezing his shoulder gently. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Thanks,” Alex repeated himself, smiling faintly. “I, uh, I appreciate it.”

Hercules smiled in return, squeezing his shoulder again before pulling away. “Anytime, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Washington's a badass, hell yes
> 
> Also, thanks so much for all the username origin stories on last chapter, I loved reading them and hearing from you guys! It's really great getting to know you a little better, and all your comments made me smile. Thank you. <3
> 
> Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed. Next chapter will be up Friday, June 1! Hope you guys had a wonderful past two weeks and that you have an even better next two weeks, and you're all awesome. Seriously awesome. Each and every one of you is awesome. Trust me here, you are _awesome._
> 
> Have an incredible day/night, and thanks so much for reading. <3


	8. Author’s Note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of school shootings/gun violence in this here author’s note. Stay safe y’all.

Hey guys. Sorry to disappoint with an author’s note instead of an actual chapter, but I wanted to talk with you about something.

So, today’s update is going to be late. How late, I’m not quite sure yet, but with some luck I’ll get it out before next Friday. I know I usually just do a quick edit on the previous chapter’s end notes if a chapter is going to be late, not a full-on author’s note, but the circumstances behind it’s delay are important and I’d like to share them with you. 

Today’s chapter is going to be late because I was in a school shooting recently. I’m okay, as is Jaysong, my beta who was also there, but I’ve been pretty busy with everything that’s been happening in the aftermath and I haven’t had much time to write. But yeah, I’m okay, and the way my community has stepped up to the occasion has been absolutely incredible. Those injured are recovering, and the rest of my town with them. 

Everything shifted almost overnight after the shooting. I was able to pick myself up and walk to my car after all of this, but some weren’t as lucky, and they deserve all the prayers, good thoughts and respect we can give to them. We need to raise awareness for this issue, even more than there already is. We need to make sure no one else has to experience anything like this ever again. We need to get to the point that schools go back to feeling safe and kids aren’t hesitant to walk into their classes in fear that they could get shot at at any given moment. We need to make these changes. Unfortunately, we can’t make these changes overnight, and I understand that. But we can start small, and all the small things can and will eventually amount up to big things, and we might just be able to make a difference. 

So, while I finish up the next chapter, I have just one request for you guys. Take the time you would usually have spent reading the 3,000-5,000 words that should have been posted today and, instead, do something kind for someone. Anyone. Your friend. A stranger. Your mom. Your teacher. This world needs all the kindness it can get. As you do, spread the word about the reason behind your actions. There’s quite a few of you, scattered all over the world, and together we really can make the world just a little brighter today. Also, as always, I’ll be around in the comments even before the next chapter is posted if anyone wants to talk. I’m here for you guys if you need me. 

Be good to each other. Hug your friends. Have an epic day.

Love you all. 

-Sparrow


	9. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lafayette and Alex drive to school, and then there’s a spirited conversation in the school cafeteria including Jefferson, Lee, and some other fun people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I’ve missed you guys. 
> 
> I’m so, so sorry for the long wait between this chapter and the last, but I’m coming back from my break with new inspiration and a solid outline for the coming chapters, so updates should be pretty regular from this point out! Thank you an incredibly amount for your patience and support with my time off and on my author’s note, that will forever mean so much to me. Love you guys and appreciate the lot of you so freaking much. <3
> 
> Anyway, chapter stuff! There is some serious discussion of child abuse and being “broken” in this chapter... nothing graphic, but stay safe. 
> 
> Enjoy and thanks for reading!!

The rest of Alex’s suspension passed in a blur of boredom, brief visits from the other boys and long hours spent with his book in his room. It could have been worse, he supposed, but he was more than willing to return to school by the time the end of his time away rolled around. So, when Lafayette all but dragged him into the car that Wednesday morning, a scratched up steel thermos of coffee in one hand and Alex’s wrist in the other, Alex couldn’t even protest.

The drive to school in the mornings had long become one of Alex’s favorite parts of the day. They sometimes picked up Herc or John along the way, but it was more often than not just Laf and Alex, the two foster brothers sitting side by side as Lafayette chattered and drove them towards school and Alex listened and laughed from the passenger seat. Lafayette usually picked a music station to play in the background of their conversations, turning it up to nearly deafening volume when they hit lulls in the dialogue and the genre of music changing with the day.

Today was no exception to the routine, Laf instantly launching into a detailed description of a weird dream he had the night before and blasting a classic rock station while Alex just settled in and listened, his hoodie big and the coffee in his hands strong and hot. The snow had been off and on throughout the weekend and the rest of Alex’s suspension, but it had finally stopped sometime during the night, leaving the morning skay a clear, pale robin’s egg blue and the underbellies of the lightly shaded clouds hues of burning peach and melting orange, the lingering sunrise streaked along the horizon.

A blanket of white now covered just about everything, thick on the smoky emerald boughs of evergreens and precariously balanced and piled on the spindly branches of deciduous trees, smooth and untouched over the expanses of sidewalks, save for the few trails of footsteps here and there, left by early morning walkers. The cars on the road rolled by carelessly in the early morning, getting to where they were going but not in a particularly fast or rushed way. Alex just gazed out the window and tried to soak in the brilliantly white world as they passed.

“So, you are still planning to come to the Schuylers’ party this weekend, _non?”_

Alex’s focus was pulled away from the snow at Laf’s voice, the older boy smiling as he glanced over at his foster brother in query. His hands were loose and relaxed at the bottom of the steering wheel, long legs comfortably under the dashboard, his dark jacket thick over his sweater and hair in it’s typical messy bun at the back of his head. His eyes were warm in the lingering, frosty cold of the car, gentle and encouraging.

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” responded Alex, actually still not quite sure how he felt about the concept but willing to give it a shot regardless. He wrapped his hands a little tighter around his thermos, soaking in the fierce warmth of the thick, scratched metal, with his own legs folded under him and his shoulders huddled under his coat. “It sounds fun enough.”

Laf shook his head, laughing under his breath and mostly to himself, as if Alex had quite a lot to learn. _”’Fun enough?’”_ he echoed. “Oh, little Alex, the Schuyler sisters do not, how you say, _mess around_ when it comes to parties,” he continued, smiling fondly, as if remembering the rambunctious parties of the past and the escapades that undoubtedly went with them. “They are the most often the talk of the high school for weeks after the fact.” 

“Is that a good thing?” Alex asked, glancing at Lafayette.

“The best,” Lafayette grinned. “Besides, you still must meet Angelica and Eliza!”

“Oh yeah, I guess I do,” he responded, the corner of his mouth twisting in an indifferent frown. Looking at Lafayette, he turned slightly in his seat so he was angled towards the older teenager, his voice taking on a hesitantly curious note as he continued. “So, Angelica and Eliza. What are those two like?”

Laf hummed in thought, considering his answer with a flicker of a smile. “Well, Eliza is very kind,” he started after a moment, “and _elle est belle,_ as many of the straight boys who attend our school seem to think. She is the calmest of the sisters, and has a tendency to keep Peggy and Angelica under control. _Réellement,_ I believe you will like her.”

“And Angelica?”

Pausing, Laf seemed to contemplate that answer for a longer moment than Eliza, expression thoughtful as he bit his lip softly. “Angelica is… difficult to describe,” he finally said, words slow as he turned onto Clermont Street. “She is tremendously fierce and very intimidating. She is entertained by making people uncomfortable, and always wants _more_ from them, from what she does, as if it can never be enough… she is rarely, if ever, content with what she already has. But, _toutefois,_ Angelica can be extremely loyal to those she cares about. She is good at heart, truly, it simply takes some time to become accustomed to her ways.”

Alex looked at Laf, eyebrows raising fractionally. “Sounds like she’s not one to be easily satisfied.”

Lafayette nodded. _”Oui,_ that would be an excellent way to describe her.” 

“And it also sounds like she’s kind of a bitch,” Alex continued, smiling faintly as his eyebrows raised more in question. 

Now laughing, Lafayette nodded again. “That would also be an excellent way to describe her,” he concurred, “at times, at least. She’s considerate to those she loves, and civil to those she likes. You two have a similar wit, which means she will likely be intrigued with you, but if you stay on her pleasant side, you two will be fine.”

Alex smiled over the rim of his thermos as he took a sip of his coffee, shaking his head. “If you say so.”

“And you have already met Peggy, _bien sûr,”_ Lafayette continued, sparing Alex a grin. “That girl is certainly a character, _non?”_

“That she is,” Alex chuckled softly. “I liked her, though. She’s like the more sarcastic, human version of John’s dog.”

Lafayette laughed out loud at the comparison. _”Oui,_ Mary and Peggy tend to be very similar at times,” he agreed, grinning. “Peggy is much like an hyperactive golden retriever when she gets excited.”

“Or an overly yippy yorkie,” Alex added, voice thoughtful as he smiled.

Laf grinned. “That as well.”

When their conversation faded to companionable quiet, Lafayette reached for the volume dial on the radio, turning up the rock music and filling the car with the building notes of the beginning of Bohemian Rhapsody, the snow covered landscape rolling by just outside the windows as they steered towards the high school.

***

The next few days passed majorly uneventfully, with everyday classes, typical after school activities and average interactions. Most people had already forgotten about the events of Friday by the time Wednesday rolled around, so although there were a few students demanding the details of what went down before the weekend, Alex, John, Herc and Laf were fortunately able to slip almost entirely under the radar of the school’s social map. It was almost as if the incident had never even happened at all.

The only thing outside the ordinary over the next few days was the fact that Thomas Jefferson especially left them alone, avoiding the boys like the plague and subtly hiding behind James Madison whenever they happened to venture too close to him. Thomas’ suddenly diluted presence in their lives wasn’t exactly an unwelcome change, but Alex was beginning to develop the distinct impression that he was now scared of them, with the tape and gauze secured over his broken nose like a shield. 

That’s why it was noteworthy that Thomas approached them in the cafeteria at lunch on Friday, looking as if all his prior nervousness had spontaneously dissolved and left him as just as much of a jerk as he was before.

Herc, Alex, Laf and John typically sat together at a table near the center of the cafeteria, with whoever might want to come by from time to time. Peggy had made an appearance a few times over the past few weeks, and since there were almost always open seats at the table, it wasn’t uncommon for the lost and wandering stragglers of the lunch hour to find themselves with the boys while they tried to find somewhere to sit permanently. Today, though, it was just the four of them, watching Jefferson warily as he walked up with the swagger injected back in his step.

“Hey y’all,” Thomas said breezily once he reached them, planting his hands on the edge of the table and leaning in carelessly. He was wearing his characteristic maroon jacket again, hair fluffy and smile sly. “How’s lunch?”

“What are you doing, Jefferson?” Hercules asked tiredly, looking exasperated. The boys had somewhat gotten used to the blissful absence of Thomas’ sneer over the past few days, and now that it had made a vehement reappearance in their lives, no one was really willing to have to deal with it all over again.

“Just checking in with y’all,” Thomas said dismissively, flapping a disdainful hand as if he was brushing away the question. He was wearing his fake glasses again, the frames without the lenses for purely aesthetic reasons, and he peered over the thick black frames now, looking down his nose at Alex with an intrigued but aloof expression. “So, Alex,” he drawled, quirking up one eyebrow slightly, “you had a few days of suspension after last week, no? How were those?”

Alex looked up at him, unamused. “They sucked, but honestly, they were kind of worth it,” he replied truthfully. Lafayette just stifled a chuckle, trying to keep a straight face for the sake of keeping the fragile peace.

Thomas’ expression dropped into flatness, dragging his glasses down the bridge of his nose to stare at Alex with contempt. “We both know you got them because you attacked me, darling,” he nasalized. 

Alex raised an eyebrow dryly. “And we both know the only reason you didn’t have those _same_ days of suspension was because your mom fought with the school board until they agreed to let you off with a warning,” he returned, “so don’t even try to pull that card.”

John snorted a laugh at that, but Thomas looked taken aback, a dramatic hand splayed out across his chest. “I wasn’t suspended because you _injured me_ ,” he protested, gesturing vehemently to the tape covering his nose. 

“Sure,” John chuckled wryly. 

“Y’all talking shit about my man here?”

And suddenly, Alex realized exactly why Thomas was acting so fearless.

Charles Lee had come up behind him with a hand on his shoulder, his smirk sharklike and wicked. Dark, gelled hair swooped back, revealing hungry brown eyes shadowed by thick brows. “You didn’t think you saw the last of me, did you?” he said scornfully as Samuel Seabury walked up beside him, James Madison taking Thomas’ other side and Aaron Burr finishing the group. Quite abruptly, Alex, Herc, Laf and John found themselves facing an united front of jerks in the middle of the crowded cafeteria. 

People walking by were completely oblivious to it, strolling past with trays and phones in hand, laughing and talking to their friends at their tables and in the line in the orchestrated chaos of everyday high school lunch as they passed, but the conversation happening right under their noses had taken a serious turn for the worst. The previously vaguely stupid but nonbelligerent atmosphere of the prior conversation had shifted so violently and suddenly to wary and uneasy that Alex found his smile dropping almost instantaneously, a guarded expression sliding in to replace it as he and his friends stared up at the five teenagers facing them.

The boys had last seen Lee and Seabury back in October, during that fight in the rain before they’d trekked back to Mount Vernon and gotten fixed up by Washington. They had won that fight, but Alex had honestly actually barely thought about it since. Only days after had been Alex’s first altercation with Jefferson, and then, only days after _that,_ he started coming down with the beginning stages of pneumonia, which quickly evolved into a terrible illness that ended with a dramatic fainting scene in the boys bathroom before a week long stay in the hospital and being taken in by the Washingtons in an awesomely unexpected twist of fate over the course of the two week fall break. 

So, the fight had been nearly forgotten by the boys by this point.

But now it was all coming rushing back to Alex, the fury in Lee’s eyes as they retreated, the rage in Seabury’s scowl, the roar that echoed off the alleyway as the offending boys ran away- _”this isn’t over”_ \- as John helped Laf up from where he had fallen on the hard concrete of the ground.

Evidently, that night wasn’t so quickly forgotten by the losing side. 

And now… Alex looked at the five of the new boys, then at the four of them standing on the opposite side. 

And _shit,_ they were outnumbered. 

Hercules looked at Thomas flatly, his expression and voice controlled even as his stature tensed, obviously aware of the crackle of danger in the air and proceeding with pointed caution as a result of that. “So you brought backup this time, huh?” he deadpanned, staring down Jefferson.

“Your attack dog of a friend has aggressively thrown himself at me twice now,” Thomas sniffed, straightening his glasses frames with a pompous motion. “I thought it was beyond time that I protected myself.” 

John had stiffened beside Alex at the appearance of the other boys while Lafayette just looked uneasy, but Alex himself had just tensed up on instinct. He wasn’t yet sure what the boys were doing over here, but he recognized the way they were walking, the way they held themselves. They were, quite undoubtably, looking for a fight. John glanced at him with a careful but pointed expression, silently asking what Alex thought of this as the boys stood before them. Alex shook his head slightly, eyes dark as his lips pressed into a thin line of dread- he wasn’t certain, but he knew he didn’t like it.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Lee asked, smirk lingering, as Alex turned back to the newcomers. Lee’s hand remained on Thomas’ shoulder, a constant reminder that they were now all united against the four boys. “You still remember us, don’t you?”

Alex raised a careful eyebrow, cautious in his words and motions. “What is this?” he asked lowly. His eyes flickered over the five teenagers, the wariness in his gaze. 

Seabury twisted a smile, his features sharp. “Calm down, Hamilton, it’s simply a friendly conversation,” he drawled, arms crossed over his chest. 

Letting out a sharp, scoff of a laugh, Lee clapped his free hand on Seabury’s shoulder as well. “Sammy here is right, boys,” he said, eyes flickering over John’s offensive stature and smile growing at how clearly pissed off the teenager was getting. “We don’t want any trouble. We just want to talk.”

“Okay,” Herc uttered, brow furrowed but voice controlled. His gaze cut to John with warning in his eyes before looking back at Lee, gesturing for him to continue. “Then start talking. You’re wasting our lunch hour here.”

Lee quirked a shadow of a smile, looking amused even as his eyes hardened. “Alright, alright. I see how it is. Forgive me for taking your precious time, my man.”

“What is it you want, Lee?” Lafayette said softly, his eyes distrustful. Despite the fact that the Revolutionary set of them got in far more fights and way more trouble than probably considered reasonable, the boys weren’t aggressive unless they felt they had to be. Laf was just the best at conveying this, with his careful voice and tempered nature, and he played peacemaker here, not liking the mood of the conversation and wanting to stop the aggression before it truly had a chance to begin. 

Lee’s creepy smile remained, but his eyes darkened, his hold on Thomas and Seabury’s shoulders becoming less companionable and more of a vice grip. “We don’t like to lose, pretty boy,” he said, voice deceptively pleasant but expression turning increasingly foul. “And we _really_ don’t like to lose to a bunch of pathetic, ragtag outcasts who hide behind their big scary guardian of a teacher every time the first hint of conflict comes along. It kills our rep, you know? We just can’t let that stand for long.”

“What does this have to do with Jefferson?” Hercules monotoned, brow low over his eyes. Thomas was still standing in the middle of the boys, looking uncomfortable but determined, but jumped slightly at his name, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. 

“Tommy here just approached us because he thought the both of us could use the support, and needed some help after what happened last week,” Lee said in a light tone, squeezing Thomas’ shoulder so tightly Jefferson was suppressing a wince. “You know, we’ve both got a bone to pick with y’all. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

“We won that fight fair and square,” Alex said firmly, a hand on John’s knee to keep him grounded beside him. His boyfriend looked ready to lunge, but that wasn’t uncommon- John was usually the first to throw a punch. But now, they couldn’t afford to start a fight with these boys. Not here, not right now.

Lee took a step closer, dragging along the other boys with him as his smile faded. “Are you so sure about that? I mean, were some dirty moves you used there, Hamilton. Leaves me to wonder where you learned them.” His expression grew more twisted in query, voice steady. “From your old foster dad, maybe? George King, wasn’t it?”

Alex stiffened at the name, his gaze cutting to Thomas accusingly. Jefferson’s fearlessness was falling away fast, and Thomas looked suddenly terrified as he realized just how dirty of hands these boys were willing to get. He glanced between the teenagers around him with his expression growing increasingly frightened, the concept of just how over his head he was dawning on his face. But the vice grip Lee had on his shoulder only seemed to tighten, rooting Thomas in place, keeping the boy firmly beside him. 

“Lee, I suggest you stop there,” Lafayette warned, watching both Alex and John with a wary expression.

“No, no, actually, I don’t think I’m done yet,” Lee pushed on, his expression growing more and more intense, staring down Alex with a whisper of a crazed smile still on his face. “I heard all about King and what he did to you. Abuse and neglect, man, that had to be tough as _shit._ I wouldn’t be surprised at all if that screwed you up pretty good, shortcake.”

“Charles-” Thomas ventured hesitantly in an attempt to stop him, watching Alex’s guarded expression in concern.

Lee instantly squeezed the juncture between his neck and shoulder so hard that Thomas broke off with a gasp of pain, panic flaring in his eyes. “Shut up, Jefferson,” he hissed, not taking his gaze off of Alex. Shoving on, he almost seemed to be enjoying this now, verbally picking apart what Alex must have gone through with a glint of crazed humor in his eyes. “What do you gotta deal with, huh? PTSD? Flashbacks, maybe? Man, that guy must have broke you.” His expression was edging on deranged but his eyes were scarily present, grounded as hell and terribly aware of exactly what he was doing. “Poor, broken little Alex. Shattered by King just to be taken in by the most incompetent teachers in this school out of pure, pathetic, _pity.”_

John snarled, Herc’s hand on his shoulder keeping him back but his eyes blazing. “Don’t you _dare-”_

“Shut it,” Seabury murmured.

Lee continued, oblivious to the interruption, but took his hands off of Thomas and Seabury to come nearer still to Alex, right up into his face. “No wonder you learned to fight. It was the only way to stay alive, wasn’t it? But you can’t fight your own mind, or your reality, can you now?” Lee was uncomfortably close to Alex now, dark gaze steely but scarily controlled as Alex stared back, eyes wide and face flushed. Lee’s voice dropped down to a whisper, just a breath of a taunt, sick smile curling at the edges of his mouth. “You’re one messed up kid, aren’t you, Alexander?”

Alex stared back at Lee for a long, slow moment, their faces still inches apart. Instantly, there was an undeniable, unrelenting fury pulsing just under his skin, consuming his thoughts, reddening his vision, urging him to throw a punch fueled by the humiliation and terrible surprise at Lee’s spontaneous little monologue. Lee just looked strangely smug but expectant, waiting for the explosion, dark eyes spiteful.

Their gazes locked, Alex’s eyes blazing, Lee’s anticipating with a glint of sadistic amusement, entertained by the emotions flickering by in Alex’s expression and patiently awaiting his reaction.

Beside Alex, John was cussing out Lee from Herc’s restraint, and on his other side, there was Lafayette, with a gentle hand on Alex’s shoulder, breathing _”mon frère”_ in a devastated but concerned tone. Lee had yet to move, hovering directly in front of Alex, patient and comprehensive, the smug expression still on his face. Alex just sat there, his right hand curling into a fist, his muscles tensing and mind twisting with anger as he prepared to swing.

_”Violence is never the answer.”_

Alex stopped.

Quietly, suddenly, with soft clarity and gentle intensity which Alex had no explanation for, Washington’s voice was running through his head, seemingly on its own accord. _”Use words the way I know you can,”_ the teacher’s voice whispered into his thoughts, a breath of a remembered tone from a time that seemed farther in the past than it truly was. _”Words cut deeper than a knife when used properly. Remember that, son.”_

Slowly, gradually, Alex’s fist uncurled, hesitating for a long moment as he thought this over.

And for once in his life, Alexander Hamilton listened.

Looking back up at Lee, who remained to be less than a foot away, Alex pressed his flat hands to his thighs to ground them, taking a slow breath and forcing himself to calm down. He wasn’t entirely sure of what he was doing now, really- as much as he excelled on the page, he didn’t often use his words verbally. But, he had them. The words he needed filled his mind to the brim, clicking together into sentences, statements, paragraphs, building upon one another as his breathing steadied and his thoughts cleared. No, he didn’t really know what he was doing with this, but he had an idea, and somehow, he knew that was all he needed. “I’m okay, Laf,” he said slowly, his voice surprisingly steady and the statement unexpectedly true. “I’m just figuring out how to deal with this.”

“Oh, you got something to say to me now, Hamilton?” Lee asked, his face twisting into a smirk, every feature in detail at his close proximity. “Please, do your worst, my man. I’d love to hear what you’ve got. What’s up first, your invalid of a teacher or your questionable mental health?”

Alex watched Lee, his expression calculated, mentally creating a plan of action. When Laf squeezed his shoulder, quick and gentle, Alex glanced at him briefly. 

“Alex,” Lafayette breathed, his expression a question.

Alex offered a quick quirk of a grim smile, his eyes affirmative. _It’s going to be okay._

Lafayette hesitates for a long moment before nodding, pulling his hand away from Alex’s shoulder, letting him go. 

Now turning back to Lee, Alex’s gaze leveled on his eyes, voice careful. “Well, first off, Washington is far from an invalid,” Alex said, his expression calculated, “and if you think that he’s anything less than one of the best teachers in this school, you’re just insulting yourself.”

“Oh, so defending daddy it is then, hmm?” Lee asked, his eyebrows raising as one corner of his mouth lifted into a sadistic whisper of a smile. “Too bad Wash himself isn’t here. Can’t protect you now, can he, princess?”

“I don’t need anybody to protect me,” Alex returned steadily.

Lee raised his eyebrows higher, his hands on his knees in the way he was bending down to be level with Alex. “What, you gonna hit me or something?” he taunted, a tint of laughter bleeding into his voice. “You’re more than welcome to. I’d like to see that.”

“No,” Alex said honestly, his expression hard but truthful. “I’m not. You’re not worth it, and I know you aren’t worth it.” He shook his head, letting out a breath, not breaking eye contact. “You’re just a bitch, Lee. You too, Jefferson. Just two insecure, weak, pitiful little bitches who pull on my past trauma to try to intimidate me. You hide in your daddies’ shadows, dragging down everyone around you to try and make your insecure asses feel better about yourselves. Bully isn’t a title to hold with pride. It’s just pathetic, Lee, Jefferson, and I think it’s beyond time that you learn that.”

Lee threw the first punch. 

After that, it was really just a matter of self defense, especially after Seabury, Burr, and Madison flung themselves at the other boys along with Lee. Jefferson, however, booked it before anyone could truly notice his absence.

Within seconds, the eight boys were engaged in a full on fist fight in the middle of the cafeteria. It immediately caught the attention of the other kids in the lunch hour, and there was quickly a ring of students surrounding them, shouting and taunting and getting excited over the prospect of new drama. The entire cafeteria erupted into utter chaos and sound, the supervising teachers panicking and calling for backup as the uninvolved students took advantage of the situations, dropped and forgotten food littering the floor as papers flew, voices rising and anarchy flooding the space. It was an old school rumble during lunch hour, barbaric and somewhat crude but fueled by anger and the strange combination of aggression and self defense, the boys scrabbling around tables and the already deafening soundscape accented with the cracks of skin on skin and grunts of effort. It was chaos and insanity, past controlling and beyond redemption. 

Until the cafeteria doors slammed open, a yell rising above all others in a commanding force to be obeyed under all circumstances. 

Alex glanced away from the action he was immersed in just long enough to see the furious Washington storming into the cafeteria, parting students like the Red Sea as he shouted for calm, instantly clearing a perfect path right to the midst of the fighting but his livid expression suggesting he already knew exactly who was involved.

In that instant, Alex knew they were completely and utterly screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Damn,_ was this chapter fun to write. 
> 
> So, I was thinking about this, and when are y’all’s birthdays? Please don’t feel pressured to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable, but I’d love to know so I can wish you a happy birthday when it’s, you know, actually your birthday. Mine’s January 31, for anyone wondering. 
> 
> Next chapter will be posted Friday, July 27, two weeks from today. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I am ridiculously excited to be back in action with this story. Seriously, I missed you guys. 
> 
> You’re flat out incredible, you know that? The day is yours- make it just as amazing as you are. I believe in you. YOU GOT THIS!


	10. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I owe you guys a serious apology. I dropped off the face of the earth for over two months and never even gave you an explanation, and I’m so, so sorry about that. I’m fine and everything, don’t worry, life and a killer case of writer’s block just got in the way. 
> 
> But, here I am now, with the next chapter, and an exceptional amount of guilt for being gone for so long, so just thanks so much for sticking with me. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy. <3

In all the times Alex had done stupid things and gotten in trouble for them, Lafayette had never really been involved. He’d usually had some sort of tie to the situation, sure, but he had never found himself very deep within the hole Alex had dug, instead more standing at the side of the figurative crater his foster brother had a tendency to hollow out of the Earth for himself in the midst of his problems and looking down at Alex with empathy, maybe tossing down a bottle of water to the boy now and then and offering French-accented words of comfort whenever needed.

Today, though, he and Alex sat side by side on the sofa, equals in crime, staring up at Washington and Martha and awaiting their punishment together. It seemed that neither one of them seemed to know quite what to do now.

The living room was absolutely crackling with tension in the choking silence that had long settled among the family, Martha and Washington standing before the couch while the boys huddled down and waited in grim acceptance for what they knew was coming for them. They both had ice packs in their grips, Lafayette pressing the blue gel to his quickly darkening black eye and Alex using his to calm the swelling in his knuckles. Washington supposed Herc and John were in similar situations at their own homes, John facing off with his abuela and Herc with his mother, as their respective disciplines were considered after the events of the day.

But what was happening with John and Herc wasn’t something Washington could concern himself with right now, or even take the time to consider. Right now, the only things he had to worry about were the two boys sitting on the couch in front of him, the anger simmering just under his skin, and the never-ending attempt to keep some semblance of control over both. 

“What happened?” Washington finally asked after a long, silent moment, voice low and steady. His dark eyes stared down at the two boys looking up at him, looming over the sofa like a wolf over a pair of rabbits. It was the first time any of them had talked since first getting in the car to leave the school, and Washington’s voice was alarming loud, slicing through the silence and leaving clean cut remnants of tense stillness in place of the deafening quiet. 

“Jefferson thirsted for revenge, it seems,” Lafayette responded, his voice hoarse. He had his free arm wrapped tightly around his middle, aching for any sense of comfort he could scrape in the aftermath of such a shitty day, and his legs were tucked underneath him, curled up against the world. “He approached the four of us in the lunchroom. We did not know what he wanted, but it soon became clear he was looking for some sort of, how you say, payback.”

“That’s when he pulled out his accomplices,” Alex muttered. He, however, sat stiff and uncomfortable beside Lafayette, head bowed and shoulders slumped. He was reverting, Washington knew, whether it was a conscious decision or not, to old foster system instincts that were still deeply ingrained in his mind. Taking the meek and apologetic approach, because that was what had always resulted in the least terrible punishment for him in the past. 

Something in Washington splintered at the thought that he was the reason behind Alex’s behavior, but anger sealed the crack before it could spread. This was not the time nor place for empathizing. 

Martha crossed her arms over her chest, her brow creasing, and asked, “You mean the Lee boy?” Her hair had been pulled up in a complicated twist when she had gotten home, but she had since let it down, and it now fell to her shoulders in loose waves. Washington supposed the headache of a tight hairstyle was likely too much on top of the headache of the situation they were facing. 

Alex nodded, his expression closed off. He didn’t make eye contact, instead staring at the ground, his feet planted on the carpet. His right hand, just barely healed after his last encounter with Jefferson, burned a bright, angry red. “Lee, and Burr, and Madison, and Seabury. The two groups combined.”

Martha had come straight from the firm when Washington had called her after the situation went down, and was still wearing her slacks and dress shirt despite her casual hair, looking formal and distant. Now, when she pressed her lips together, expression hardening, it only exaggerated the professional air that seemed to surround her. As usual with situations such as these, she had long gone into lawyer mode. “What happened next?” she asked, tone soft but clipped. 

“There was some… discussion,” Lafayette said, voice hesitant. His fingers kneaded into the ice pack, nervous and fidgeting. “Lee was very aggressive, especially towards Alex.”

“He went after everything he could,” Alex said quietly. He shook his head just slightly, as if trying to clear the irritable thoughts plaguing his mind. “He had to be desperate, to dig all that up.”

“So you hit him?” Washington asked, his voice level, steady. 

Alex’s gaze flickered up for the first time. A bruise was already beginning on his cheekbone, spreading a hue of deepening red under his dark eyes, accenting the dulled fire burning low in the brown hues. “No,” he said, his eyes hesitant but words sure in his anwer. “I just fired back a few choice words of my own and then he punched me.”

Washington stared back steadily, gaze never wavering. “But everyone fought.” He stated, didn’t ask, just waiting for the confirmation or denial. 

“After the first hit, everything was just chaotic,” Alex said. His voice was soft, just above a whisper, but level, matching Washington’s even tone. “Everyone got involved. Everyone had to, if they wanted half a chance to walk away.”

Washington took a long inhale, and said quietly, “Lafayette, if you’ll excuse us.”

Laf looked up in surprise, eyes wide. _”Quelle?”_ he demanded, started and alarmed. 

Washington’s eyes were steely, expression set. He knew Lafayette didn’t want to leave Alex and understood the boy’s empathy, but he also knew that Lafayette likely had little to no influence on what happened earlier, and it would be easier to get information out of Alex if it was just the three of them. “I’d like a word with Alex, alone.”

“But it was not his fault,” Lafayette protested, his voice rising. He sat up on the couch, a crease appearing between his eyebrows as he took the ice pack from his face. His eye was quickly darkening, but his expression was vehement despite it, passion clear among the bruises. “He does not deserve to be blamed!”

“That’s enough, Lafayette,” Martha said sharply, her voice pointed in its firmness. 

Lafayette deflated as quickly as he’d worked himself up, releasing a long, stressed breath through his nose as he looked up at Martha pleadingly, silently begging to be allowed to stay. When her severe expression remained unchanging, his shoulders dropped, recognizing a battle lost. With a lasting, apologetic look at Alex, Laf got up and left the room, thundering up the stairs and shutting his bedroom door behind him with a resounding, spiteful bang.

Alex held his head up now that they were alone. His eyes were still unsure, but a certain tenseness was gathering in his shoulders, ready to rise up to his own defense now that Laf wasn’t there to protect him. “You blame me for all this,” he said flatly as soon as Lafayette was gone, no question in his words. 

But no, Washington knew. They didn’t blame Alex, not really. They just knew that Alex was more of a powder keg than Lafayette, and had somewhat assumed that he would have more of an impact on the situation. And, if the increasingly defensive stance Alex was taking on, staring up at them from the couch with burning eyes and a determined expression, Washington couldn’t help but wonder if they were right.

“We don’t, son,” Washington said, voice hard but placating, his expression remaining unchanged. “We just want to know what happened.”

Alex stared up at them, jaw set and eyes firm. “We already told you,” he said evenly. “Jefferson came up during lunch, then Lee and the other guys showed up, Lee yapped for a while, and when I tried to defend myself _verbally_ he started swinging. Then everything just went to hell.”

Washington released a long exhale, fighting to urge to rub at his temples and try to alleviate the headache he felt forming just above his eyes. He honestly wasn’t sure how they were going to deal with this. In the past, they’d always let the school handle Alex’s punishment. At home, it was typically just a matter of making sure Alex knew not to let it happen again. And, really, any sort of punishment beyond that usually wasn’t necessary. Most of the fights that happened weren’t all Alex’s fault, and Washington could usually see the reason behind his behavior, so Alex had always been let off relatively easy. 

But this time… this time was just different, in many ways. It had been an actual fight, instead of a single hit. It had included all of the boys, instead of just Alex. And it happened barely a week after the last, without much explanation. 

And this time, Washington knew they couldn’t just let it slide. 

If they could just figure what happened today, what had been exchanged and what had been said to make everything go downhill as much as it did, then maybe they could figure something out. But, right now, as Alex was avoiding their questions and giving vague responses when he gave much of one at all, it didn’t look like cooperation was a realistic possibility. 

“Alexander,” he finally said, the words a sigh. His tone was apologetic but firm, not initiating the offensive but also not backing down. “You have to know that this kind of behavior just isn’t acceptable. You’ve gotten in two fights in two weeks. You _just_ went back to school after your last suspension.”

Alex’s gaze never wavered, the ice pack still clenched between his hands. “Believe me, I didn’t plan this,” he said softly. His dark eyes were intense, expression detached but genuine enough to be honest. “If I could have walked away, I would have.”

“What was this fight even over, Alex?” Martha asked, her voice distantly irritated and curt. “What was so terrible that it resulted in a full-blown fist fight?”

Glancing over at Martha, Washington knew she was determined to keep her professional front sealed before her, and she was actually doing quite a good job, but he could see beyond the facade. She didn’t understand the situation, and that was starting to frustrate her. He could see it the building crease in her forehead, the gathering tenseness of her neck, the tight line of her mouth. She was angry and confused and angry about being confused, and he could certainly relate. 

“Lee wanted payback, I guess, like Laf said,” Alex said, shrugging vaguely. “They lost that first fight, way back when I first moved here. He didn’t take kindly to losing.”

“That’s what this was about?” Washington asked, eyebrow arching. “The first fight in the rain?”

Washington remembered that first fight in the rain in scenes, like the water dripping from the boy’s hair, pink tinted with blood, the bruises forming on their skin, the limp in Laf’s step and the fear in Alex’s eyes. That was the first time he had seen Alex’s fire flat out, and the first time he saw Alex’s alarmingly low understanding of his own worth. It seemed so long ago, but maybe not for the boys that seemed to be still hung up over it. 

Alex shrugged again, looking uncomfortable. He broke eye contact, gaze instead flickering to the ground, voice quiet when he spoke. “Sort of.”

“What else did Lee say?” Even with the likely humiliating loss of the fight, Washington knew that couldn’t be all. Whatever words were exchanged in that seemingly innocent lunch period, they must have carried more weight and bitterness than simple, petty thirst for revenge. That wouldn’t have been enough to start a full on brawl. 

Alex pressed his lips together, avoiding Washington’s eyes. “Nothing,” he muttered. His hair was loose, and it fell forward as his head was bowed, a dark curtain framing his face. 

Washington stared at Alex, eyes hardening. He tried to keep the harshness out of his voice. “It couldn’t have been nothing if it ended up like this, son.”

The boy’s gaze flickered up, a stubborn firmness settling within the dark hues. The icepack he had been using before lay forgotten in his palms. “It’s not important,” he said, as if he was trying to brush it off, this time with more confidence in his words. “Lee said some stuff, I said some stuff, and then he punched me. That’s all.”

Washington released a breath, trying to force down the annoyance beginning to rise within him as Alex danced around the question. He was already angry- angry at the boys, for getting involved in shit like this over and over again, angry at Alex, for not walking away when he _knew_ the boy knew better, and angry at himself, for not recognizing that this was an issue sooner. And although the anger was a distant shadow of what it was when all of this started, it was beginning to strengthen now, frustration fortifying it’s faded walls and building it back up in a slow but steady show of growing irritation. 

The school hadn’t decided on a punishment for the boys yet, but it was more than likely that it would be severe. Because Alex was a repeated offender, his would likely be worse. If this were to continue, Washington knew the stupid, ignorant mistakes of Alex’s youth would haunt him well into his adult life. Washington had seen it happen, time after time in all his years of teaching. It couldn’t happen to Alex too. 

Washington genuinely did want to understand. He wanted to take the time to comprehend why this had happened, wanted to figure out what had gone down today, wanted to settle on how they could deal with it in a halfway civil manner. He knew there had to be more to this story, that it couldn’t just be complete and finished at just this. There had to be something Alex was leaving out, but if he was going to continue to avoid the truth like this, then they weren’t going to get anywhere at all. 

And Washington was angry, and no amount of wanting could change that. 

“Alex, we can’t help you if you don’t help us to understand first,” Martha said. Her voice was smooth, firm, her shoulders back and stature tall. “We need to know what happened today.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Alex muttered, his cheeks coloring. He watched his hands pass the ice pack between them, blue gel likely warm by now, twisting it in his fingers and using it as a distraction to avoid meeting his his foster parents’ eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Alex, but not talking about it is no longer an option.” Washington knew his tone was severe, but he felt that it was needed. They couldn’t just go on like this, with him and Martha gently coaxing the information out of Alex while the boy shut down and refused to answer their questions. They were going nowhere with the streak of conversation they were currently on, and it was time to amp it up if that was what it took to get the answers they needed.

But Alex just shook his head, his head hanging low, his voice soft and posture submissive. “I already told you,” he mumbled. “What Lee said doesn’t matter.”

“Did you say something to trigger him?” Washington asked.

Alex didn’t look up. “What?”

“Did you say something that might have set Lee off? Something offensive or controversal, anything to draw the source of all of this back to you?”

Suddenly, _finally,_ Alex’s gaze flickered back up, surprised and almost defensive, dark eyes narrowed. “No,” he said, “I didn’t.” 

Finally, it seemed that something was going to actually happen here, that questions were going to get the answers they needed. Although part of Washington sparked in distant worry that the situation would begin to elevate, a bigger part with just grateful that Alex was finally beginning to click in. He didn’t want to get the boy riled up, but they needed answers, and if turning up the heat on the conversation was what it took, then Washington was willing to risk it. The school needed to know what happened, _they_ needed to know what happened. Until the situation was completely picked apart and the pieces individually examined, what to do about it and what to do to prevent a similar situation from arising in the future couldn’t be decided.

“Are you sure? You didn’t say anything at all that might have insulted him, started all of this?” Washington asked, his voice steady even as his arms tightened where they were crossed over his chest. Martha stood by his side, looking cautiously unsettled but not stepping in, not yet. The tension was beginning to climb again now that Alex was engaged, the scared edges of the boy’s stance smoothing out with stubborn indignation.

“I’m positive,” Alex said, sounding a little miffed, a little hurt. His brow was low over his eyes. “We didn’t start all of this. None of it was our doing.”

“Then what was your doing, son?” Washington asked, trying to keep his voice level but not succeeding much with it. Now, it seemed, once he gave himself permission to get a bit more upset, his anger surged entirely, like a leak from a slowly breaking dam. Martha’s hand appeared on his arm, squeezing just enough to be felt. “Fights don’t work when they’re one-sided, we both know that. What did you do to contribute?”

“I defended myself,” Alex said, voice beginning to rise. He sat straighter on the couch now, the ice pack forgotten on the cushion beside him, staring up at Washington with those intelligent, intense eyes, currently burning with a growing fire. “What was I supposed to do, just sit there and let Lee insult us?”

Washington forced out a slow, steadying breath, his eyes locking with Alex’s gaze. “You could have walked away, Alexander.”

Alex just laughed sharply, abruptly, the sound bitter and incredulous. He shook his head, pressing his hands together in his lap, shoulders back but body tense as he stared up at his foster parents. “No, I couldn’t have. You didn’t hear what Lee said.”

Washington’s eyes hardened, and suddenly the anger that had been building within him throughout the course of the day began to overflow. It had been a dreadfully long day, full of torn feelings and frustrated confusion and dismayed, bitter lack of surprise at the news of yet another fight, and this was all just too much. His voice low, he thundered, “Violence is never-”

_”Violence is never the answer,_ I know!” Alex snapped, and Washington suddenly saw something give in his eyes too, snapping like a rubber band streched too far. The boy erupted from forcibly calm to on the edge of furious so quickly it was alarming, and for the first time, Washington realized just how angry Alex was too, how much he’d been forcing down his fury throughout the conversation as well. “Don’t you think I know that? Why do you think I didn’t punch first?!”

Suddenly, Washington’s anger plummeted again, instead filling with a startled kind of concern for the boy sitting before him. Emotions were rising and falling like the hills of a roller coaster, making the entire conversation feel unstable and unsure. “Alexander,” Washington said, a warning in his voice even as his tone softened.

“You know, I actually did what was _right_ this time,” Alex continued, as if he hadn’t heard Washington at all. He flashed to his feet, too restless to remain sitting, his hands flying up to gesture violently as he spoke. Everything that had been pented up over the course of the day came flooding out like water from a broken dam, eyes flashing and breathing hard. “I did everything you said. Used my words, didn’t resort to fighting, cut Lee _deeper than a knife_ when I said the right thing that I _knew_ would hit in the perfect place to shut him up. I did everything right!” He ran an agitated hand through his hair, breathless and angry. “But this time, I’m the one getting punished, for the first time in all of the times this has happened, and it’s not even my fault!”

Washington’s voice rose, stunned and pained by his own words turned against him. It had been so long since that conversation in the hallway, yet the memory was still fresh, the words exchanged then ringing clear a bell in his head as his expression rushed to turn back to neutral, fighting to keep the hurt from showing on his face. “Alexander!” he yelled, just to be heard over the boy, Martha still standing close by his side with her hand frozen on his arm.

“It’s not _fair!”_ Alex shouted in return, the frantic kind of anger burning in his eyes as his expression contorted in something akin to both injured and the urge to injure. “You don’t even know how hard it was, not punching Lee after the hideous things he said when, all my life, punching my way through was the only way to see tomorrow! Can’t you just _appreciate_ that?! It took so much to keep myself from turning to violence when that’s _all_ I wanted to do. I was trying to _make you guys proud!”_

“That’s enough, Alex,” Martha cut in, her voice deadly. 

“And then I come home and get this!” Alex yelled, going too fast and too hard to stop. “You try to blame me for something that, for once in my life, isn’t my fault! It isn’t _fair!”_

“You’re grounded,” Washington said, his voice finally shaking, finally losing it’s unwavering steadiness. “Lafayette too. No phone, no TV, no leaving the house, no having any friends over, for the next two weeks. And, for god’s sake, don’t even think you’re going to that party tonight at the Schuylers’.”

The boy exhaled in disbelief, face burning red and eyes burning furiously. He searched for a response for a long moment, his hands shaking violently at his sides, eyes flickering between Washington and Martha. But then he just whirled around to start for the stairs, hotly muttering “I’m going to my room” under his breath, ready to leave the converation and hide away upstairs after the events of the day with his hair flying and steps hurried.

“Son, you leave us no choice,” Washington called after him, his voice low, expression hard.

Alex stopped at the banister at the words, as sudden and abrupt as a paused tornado. He turned to face Washington again, and for the first time, Washington realized how close he was to crying, the tears balancing in his eyes alongside the anger. He took a ragged breath, shaking his head nearly imperceptibly, breath shuddering as he met eyes with Washington for a shattered fraction of a second. “I am not your son,” he whispered.

Then he turned and thundered up the stairs, leaving Martha and Washington to stand in the wake of the disaster they all created with nothing but the scattered tension and stunned aftermath to keep them afloat.

***

After the argument ended, a deafening quiet settled over the house, almost ringing with it’s silence and absolutely unavoidable to notice.

That’s why, when an incredibly soft, barely audible knock came at Lafayette’s door less than half an hour later, he heard it clear as a gunshot.

Getting up from his bed and hurrying to answer it, he found Alex standing in the doorway, face bruised and eyes intense with determination and anger etched in his expression. His phone was clutched in his right hand, backpack slung over his left shoulder, a hoodie thrown over his t-shirt with his hair pulled back in a messy bun, a few straight, dark strands surrounding his face and only accenting the fire in his eyes. 

“Get your stuff,” he said, voice low and firm. “We’re going to the Schuyler’s party tonight.”

The stubborness in his tone suggested that he’d be going no matter what Lafayette’s response was, and Alex wasn’t the only one who was upset about what had happened today.

So, after a long, quiet moment, Lafayette exhaled sharply and nodded once. “Let us go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m kinda really hesitant to give you guys a set date for the next chapter, but I think I can honestly say that you can expect the it sometime in the next couple of Fridays.
> 
> Alright, legitimate question- what’s your favorite song, right this instant? Like, whatever’s stuck in your head. Mine was One Song Glory last night, this morning it’s Santa Fe. I’ve been listening to a lot of RENT lately, clearly. 
> 
> Also, just, thank you so much for reading and returning to this work. You guys are amazing. Seriously, you’re a blessing beyond a blessing and I appreciate you so, so much. Thank you. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, and never forget that you are an absolutely spectacular human being who deserves every single wonderful thing the world can give you. I believe in you, and have an awesome day. <3


	11. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys sneak out to the party. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know this chapter is super delayed, and I’m so sorry about that, but it’s also super long, so hopefully that helps make up for it ;)
> 
> ALSO, this chapter contains mention of underage drinking. That does not mean that I’m recommending or encouraging underage drinking. Please don’t sue me. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and enjoy! <3

All it took was two quick phone calls and a hastily made plan for John and Herc to be in. 

Alex wasn’t sure if this whole party thing was the best or worst idea he’d ever had, but either way, he found that he was just past the point of caring. His concern for what he did and for the consequences of his actions had been left far behind him, leaving him admittedly rash and stupid but ultimately desperate for a distraction from the argument he’d just finished. He knew that he wasn’t prone to making responsible or even vaguely decent decisions when he felt like this, but he was past the point of caring about that too. Let him ruin shit. The urge to be senseless and stupid and wild ran fast and hot in his veins, and doing something reckless was the easiest way to fix it. 

All he could do was be grateful that his friends understood, at least on some level.

Hercules volunteered to drive them, since he was the only one out of the four of them who wasn’t grounded off his ass for what happened today. His mom wasn’t happy with him by any means, but Herc had told her the whole story, and she understood the reason behind it after the explanation was given.

Alex wished he could say the same for Washington and Martha, but the whole story was not something that he was willing to provide at this point. He knew they were confused and angry, and he genuinely got why that was. He never meant to make them upset. But, even still, what went down at lunch was still too fresh to talk about now, and Washington currently wasn’t willing to listen to anything but words, which left them in an uncomfortable and frustrating situation that just wasn’t going to be resolved today.

But Alex wasn’t going to think about that now. 

He needed a distraction, and now he was finally getting one. He wasn’t going to waste it worrying about the exact thing he was trying to get away from. 

He and Laf’s plan was pretty simple and straightforward: wait until Washington and Martha went to bed for the night, and then shoot off a text to Herc, who would then come over to pick them up and, after picking up John as well, drive to the Schuylers’. They would stay for a few hours, then head home by three at the latest to make sure no one would wake up and notice their absence.

They spent a good amount of time sitting on Laf’s bed with Alex’s phone laying on the bedspread between them, alternating between talking to Herc and John on speaker mode as they figured out a strategy and decided on what they were going to do. It very quickly became clear that none of them had really done anything like this in the past, evident in their somewhat pathetic google searches of _how to sneak out of the house teen tips_ and blatantly questionable ideas in the beginning, but they came up with a decently solid plan eventually. 

Now, at half past eleven, Alex was sitting in the shadowed backseat of Herc’s car with Laf riding shotgun and Herc behind the wheel, sending a quick text to John to let him know they were on their way and trying to decide if the jittery, shaky feeling flooding his limbs stemmed from excitement or nerves. 

The interior of the car was nearly black with night, the only lights being the beams of headlights in front of them and the periodically rhythmic appearance of streetlights washing over the windshield, lighting the car up for a fragment of a second before leaving them in darkness yet again. There were few cars on the street at this hour, so the roads were nearly empty with the open expanse of the night free for their taking, with Herc blasting the radio as he and Laf joked and laughed up front, psyched for the party ahead of them and seeing the whole world as their own. They didn’t talk about the fight or the events of the day entirely, instead opting to live for the present and let the past go for now. There’d be time for discussion later.

Alex tried to smile and throw in a one-liner from time to time to keep up with the conversation, but his focus was mostly centered on the phone in front of him, his face lit up by the screen as he waited for John’s response. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear as he sent a follow-up text a few minutes later, praying that John hadn’t fallen asleep or something while waiting for them to arrive.

But then a text came through from _Laurens Laurens_ , reading _waiting outside!_ with a smiling emoji following, and Alex let out a breath of relief, looking up from his screen.

“John’s ready,” he said, a quick flash of a smile appearing on his face as a fast beam of light from a passing streetlight caught his features. “We’re all set.”

Herc let out a whoop of victory, spinning the wheel as he turned into John’s neighborhood. The interior of the car seemed to nearly vibrate with the music, and they had to shout over it to be heard, but it all held such a carefree, wild, _young_ vibe that Alex didn’t find himself minding. “Alright, let’s go and get shit done,” Herc yelled, shooting a grin at Alex in the rear view mirror. 

Lafayette laughed lightly, twisting in his seat to raise his eyebrows at Alex, offering an expression of hopeful excitement as he slung his arms over the console. “It looks as if everything is turning out well, _oui?”_

“Sure seems like it.” Alex’s gaze flickered up to meet Laf’s, a nervous, adrenaline-fueled smile appearing on his face. “God, I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

“Teen rebellion, man,” Hercules laughed. “I guess we’ve all got to try it out sometime.”

“I guess so,” Alex agreed, shaking his head. He glanced out the window, tracking the familiar route through the neighborhood as they made their way through the twisty, worn streets, even though the houses looked different in the dark. “I mean, there were a few times here and there that I tried to sneak out from foster homes, but it was never anything all that big, and I usually got caught before I got past the front door. This whole sneaking out and defying my foster parents thing is kind of new for me.”

“I think this is kind of new for all of us. We’re not exactly seasoned defiants.”

Lafayette smiled, his expression somewhat mischievous. “Well, I do feel quite rebellious,” he said, causing Herc to bark out a laugh as he pulled up to John’s house.

They were barely in the driveway before a shadowed figure was running to the car from the dark porch, hair in a recognizable foxtail of curls and stride familiar even as the night masked his face. John ducked into the backseat beside Alex a moment later, grinning widely and looking borderline ecstatic as he slammed the door behind him. “Let’s do this,” he said, his smile clear in his voice, and they were on their way.

***

Alex knew that the Schuylers were rich, but, looking at their ginormous, looming house, he didn’t realize they were _that_ rich. Seriously, _holy shit._

Really, it was more a mansion than a house, with soaring architecture, beautiful details and an impressive presence, perched on a corner lot like a queen overseeing her kingdom. It seemed to climb the sky, towering over the meticulously landscaped yard and the, in feeble comparison, frightfully puny houses bordering it on either side. In the daylight, it was likely majestic.

But, in the silver moonlight, it was something different entirely.

Even with it’s regal qualities, the party had taken away most of the house’s sophistication and replaced it with young and wild vibes, a clear reflection of what was going on inside. Bright, multicolored lights flashed through the windows and music and voices seemed to boom out of the walls themselves, with toilet paper thrown over the branches of the large oak planted out front and a handful of crushed beer cans and empty wine coolers scattered across the lawn. 

In a neighborhood like this, with neat, trimmed lawns and respectable houses with lights turned off at half past ten and doors locked at least an hour before, the Schuyler mansion was a beacon of life among the dead of night, and Alex knew instantly that it was exactly what he had been hoping to find. 

“Holy shit,” John said as he shut his door, slinging his arm over the top of the car and staring up at the house with clear appreciation in his gaze. His breath frosted the air, hoodie baggy over his shoulders as his eyes read stunned appreciation. “The girls outdid themselves. This looks awesome.”

“Yeah, it does,” Alex agreed, gazing at the mansion as well and pulling his jacket tighter around him, anxious to get inside. Offering an expression that was half grin and half smirk, he raised one eyebrow fractionally. “Come on, let’s get in. We’ve got some hell to raise.”

Hercules laughed, booming and loud, slinging a gentle arm around Alex’s shoulders as they began the walk from the car to the house. “That we do, my man.”

The street was lined with parked cars down either side of the corner lot, stretching deep into the depths of the neighborhood, and the four of them wove their way between the bumpers as they crossed over to the yard. It was cold in the frosty November night, but a few people were still outside anyway, stumbling around the driveway and drunkenly laughing with e-cigs between their fingers and clouds of fruity smelling vapor hovering around their heads. Herc, with his arm still securely around his shoulders, carefully steered Alex around these guys, with Laf and John following close behind. 

When they reached the porch, the front door was just barely ajar, so Herc pushed it open with his left hand braced against the wood. The heavy oak swung back like the entrance to a portal, their surroundings abruptly going from the dark of night to a packed, loud foyer with music blaring and lights flashing, red solo cups sloshing and laughs arising as people brushed past each other further into the house. 

Lafayette glanced at Alex, as if checking to make sure this was okay, but Alex was almost relieved to see the chaos. Chaos and insanity was the fastest and easiest way to wipe a day’s memories, and after a day like the one Alex’d had, he was more than eager to forget. 

He grabbed John’s hand from behind him as he stepped into the house, slipping under from Herc’s arm with a grin and a laugh. “Come on,” he said, and John followed with a somewhat uncertain but willing smile, Herc and Laf behind them. 

Becoming part of the pack of bodies was different from just watching them, going from an observer to a participant and instantly being enveloped in the crowd. Alex weaved his way through with his hand still firmly interlocked with John’s, people brushing passed him and bodies pressed against his own. Although part of him was uneasy with as many people touching him as there were, a bigger part of him told that part to shut up and let him live. 

Alex needed a distraction. 

This was a distraction. 

He’d be fine.

“Oh my god, you guys made it!”

Alex looked up just in time to see a flash of yellow before there was a girl hugging him, her arms tight around his back and his face almost immediately buried in her curls. He tensed up automatically before he recognized the perfume she was wearing- something almost aggressively fruity with just a hint of something sweet. Then he let himself relax and hug her back, because this was Peggy Schuyler, and she was about as dangerous as a kitten chasing a butterfly.

It also made it easier to relax knowing that this was a girl launching herself at him, instead of a boy. Alex tended to be more comfortable with women than he was with men, most times. The majority of the shitty people in his life had been male, so strange men or boys made him more uneasy than strange women or girls, despite the fact that he would trust guys like John, Laf and Herc with his life without a thought. The only grown man that Alex found himself being actually comforted by instead of panicked further was Washington, actually. 

But he wasn’t going to think about that now.

Peggy stepped back to hug the others, grinning and her eyes shining with excitement. She wore a canary yellow sweater and a pair of ripped jeans, her hair loose and curly and her cheekbones bright with golden highlighter. Alex liked Peggy- she just had an instantly attractive presence to everyone around her, pulling them in and offering her own special brand of light to whoever followed her flame. She was only a freshman, but her circle of friends seemed to include most of the high school through her own extreme involvement and her sisters’ influence, and honestly, she was just really quite hard not to like. 

And now, looking at the four of them with her eyes excited and her grin contagious, Alex could see where her popularity had stemmed from. 

“God, am I glad to see you,” she said as she began to usher them further into the house, making their way through the throng of people to get somewhat away from the confines of the crowd. “I heard a rumor that Washington killed you guys after the whole lunch thing today, and after what else I heard about that all going down, I wondered if I should start believing it. Thought I’d be having to give eulogies, y’all.”

“Well, he kind of came close,” Hercules said, smiling briefly but fast to move on from the subject, not lingering on it for long with a grin and a pointedly upbeat tone as they wove through the front hall. His hand was intertwined with Laf’s to avoid losing each other in the crowd. “But, hey, we made it, and here we are. The place looks amazing.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks!” Peggy glanced around, looking up at the bright lights and speakers scattered over the house as they continued to walk. Alex followed her gaze, taking in the speakers nestled in corners, lights positioned at the soaring ceilings, the handful of random streamers strung over the banister of the staircase and hanging in the open doorways to the kitchen and basement. “Eliza and Angelica have this whole house party thing down to a science at this point, so this is kind of all their doing. I mean, I’m the one who got bullied into playing Spider-Man and getting some of those lights way up there, but I guess that’s what the youngest just has to deal with.”

“As I fellow youngest, I get what you mean,” Alex said wryly, barely able to finish his sentence before Lafayette was squawking in protest. 

“Anyway,” Herc cut in, sending a playfully stern look Alex’s way as he looped an arm around Laf’s shoulders and squeezed reassuringly, “it sure looks like the party’s a success. There’s cars all up the street. Both streets, actually.”

As Hercules spoke, they found themselves walking into the kitchen, which was fortunately less packed than the rest of the house. Only a few stragglers lingered among the white cabinets, food and beer scattered across the countertops, and the normal lights were actually on in here, which was a nice contrast to the seizure-inducing disco settings currently plaguing the rest of the place. 

Peggy leaned back against the countertop once they stopped, her hip pressed into the edge of the quartz, her smile seeming to be a permanent part of her face by this point. She had snagged a Pepsi as they’d passed the drink buckets, and she popped it open now, the hiss of carbonation leaking through the music. “Ha, yeah, well-”

“Hey, Pegs?”

“Oh! Oh, wait-” Peggy pushed herself away from the countertop, waving excitedly to someone behind Alex as a few new figures entered the kitchen with her Pepsi sloshing dangerously with the motion. Her sweater sleeve slipped down her wrist as her waving grew even more aggressive, revealing several inches of brightly colored string bracelets, her grin seeming to stretch even further at the newcomers’ appearance. “-YO, ELIZA! ANGE! GET OVER HERE! YOU STILL GOTTA MEET ALEX!”

His curiosity almost immediately getting the better of him, Alex turned to look, and recognized the two girls walking into the full light from the semi-darkness of the living room as the elusive other two-thirds of the Schuyler sisters.

Oh, so this whole meeting actually was happening for real now. Alex distantly tried to brace himself. 

One, wearing a blue button up shirt knotted at the waist and her dark hair in a loose, tastefully styled braid trailing down her shoulder, had a friendly smile and a politely interested expression. She grabbed a wine cooler as she passed the bucket of them sitting on the counter, her hips swaying with the motion, and flashed a grin at the boy who called out to her when she did so. Alex assumed her to be Eliza, if what Laf had told him of her was to be believed. 

That would leave the other girl to be Angelica.

Thinking back to how Laf had described her, Alex was suddenly convinced that every word he’d said about her rang true. She was incredibly intimidating even from a distance, with her tall stature and blackfire eyes, yet her expression was detachedly intrigued, as if she was already sizing Alex up before she’d even spoken a word to him. 

Alex jumped when there was a hand closing around his wrist, but the thin fingers and gentle pressure were familiar and comforting. “You will like them,” Laf whispered near his ear, squeezing Alex’s wrist briefly, the contact reassuring and present. “And they will like you. Just, how you say, give them a chance, _oui?”_

“Gosh, I can’t believe you haven’t gotten to meet him until now,” Peggy was gushing as she met Angelica and Eliza halfway, ushering them the rest of the way into the kitchen like an excited mother encouraging her preschoolers to make friends. “We’ve been waiting for this moment for, like, weeks, seriously. Come on, say hello, have the dramatic and climatic first meeting we’ve all been holding out for.”

“Hey,” Alex said, offering a small, tentative wave and a hesitant smile. He found himself already blushing, less than thrilled with Peggy’s intro but knowing there wasn’t much he could do to counteract it now.

The girls slowed in front of the four of them, with Angelica staring him down already and Eliza just keeping her smile steady on her face. Her wine cooler rested waiting and unopened in her hand, and part of Alex wondered if she was going to drink it at all, or just had it for appearances. She didn’t seem like the kind of person to get drunk just for kicks and giggles. 

Then, apparently making a decision about something, Eliza let out a small, awkward huff of a laugh and steadied her gentle gaze on Alex’s eyes. “Is it okay if I hug you?” she asked. 

Alex blinked, a little surprised by the odd request and caught off guard. He casted a slightly confused glance Laf’s way, but his foster brother just nodded encouragingly, so Alex shrugged slightly and returned the breathy laugh. “Uh, sure?” 

Stepping forward, Eliza hugged him briefly, the pressure light but warm. Even with that one hug, Alex started to decipher the differences between Eliza and Peggy, and he began understanding why Laf had somewhat hinted that each of the Schuylers were very much individuals. For one, while Peggy smelled a little like grapefruit and sugar with an almost dizzying note of mango, Eliza was more woodsy and subtle, like cedarwood and jasmine. Her touch was softer than Peggy’s, less in your face and more careful to give you space. Even as she pulled away, her dark eyes rimmed by mascara weighted lashes were gentle, seeming excited to meet him but remaining calm and so, so steadying. 

“Sorry if that was weird, but I’ve just heard so much about you, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” Eliza confessed as she stepped back, her smile lingering. She shot a grin over Alex’s shoulder, expression gently teasing, before her gaze returned to his eyes. “John picked well. Gosh, Alex Hamilton, I never thought this day would come.”

“Eliza Schuyler,” Alex returned, smiling back hesitantly. “I’ve heard a lot about you too.” 

She smiled again, her eyes crinkling at the corners with the expression, and was about to say more when a shout of _”Hey, Eliza!”_ arose from the crowd just outside the kitchen. She turned instinctively, found an arm waving frantically at her from the depths of people in the living room, and then smiled apologetically at Alex.

“I’m so sorry, but I really should go see what that’s about,” she said, looking as if she regretted it but already beginning to drift away. Alex got it, having a party was kind of a dangerous thing in a house as nice as this, and keeping things at least decently in control was a vital part of keeping your home intact by the end of night. “I’ll talk to you guys later, okay? It was really nice meeting you, Alex!”

“SERIOUSLY, _COME HERE!”_ the yelling voice continued, seeming to up a notch in urgency, and then Peggy started to look concerned as well.

“Sorry guys, but if someone did something to my lights, there’s gonna be a casualty count,” she muttered to them, already hurrying after Eliza with a half minded hand flap of apology and quick steps in expensive heels, clicking against the cool tile of the floor. Her half empty Pepsi joined Eliza’s unopened wine cooler, abandoned on the counter. 

Laf’s hand found its way back to Alex’s wrist again, warm and reassuring, squeezing once in a silent confirmation that the interaction went well. Alex let out a small sigh of relief. 

“Alexander Hamilton, hmm?”

But then Alex turned instinctively to find himself face to face with Angelica Schuyler, her eyes dark and one eyebrow arched just slightly, and his relief instantly vanished. Her arms were crossed over her chest, studying Alex like a novel she was working to analyze. Her hair, dark and semi-explosive with volume, framed her face, accenting her blackfire eyes and curiously intense expression, and the way she was standing near the door of the kitchen, she was backlit by the party lights, seeming to set her curls on fire with flashes of blue, green, red. 

Alex wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or terrified.

Herc sighed in mildly unsurprised resignation from beside Lafayette, one hand settling on his hip. “You couldn’t have been just a little more subtle with that?” he asked flatly. Laf just looked vaguely amused even if his sympathy shined through his expression, watching the two of them with mild yet completely undisguised interest. 

“Hey, I had to start a conversation with him somehow,” Angelica returned, not looking away from Alex. He got the impression that she was sizing him up, estimating his abilities, trying to figure out if he really was everyone said he was. Half mindedly, he pulled himself up a little taller. “What’s better than saying hello?”

“Angelica, I presume,” Alex said, trying to make himself sound more confident than he was. Although part of him wanted to recoil at her intimidating presence, a bigger part almost wanted to challenge her back, see what happened. The anger and young, wild feeling hadn’t yet faded, skewing his judgement and roughing up his thoughts. He wanted to see where this highly anticipated meeting went, and he wasn’t afraid to initiate the offensive. 

However, she merely smiled at that, a shadowed flicker of a thing appearing at the corner of her mouth, her shoulders back and one jean-clad leg cocked. “You presume correctly,” she returned, sounding as if she was amused by him. “So you’re the kid who managed to get in a full blown brawl in the middle of lunch. Heard a lot about you today.” 

Alex tensed but nodded, his shoulders pulling back a bit as he met her eyes. “Yeah, I am.”

“Good. Someone was bound to put those idiots in their place eventually, and I’m sure as hell glad it was you.” 

For all the things he was expecting to come from Angelica, that one wasn’t among them. 

He blinked in surprise, his attempts at being impressive fading in the wake of genuine intrigue. His brow furrowed slightly, one corner of his mouth quirking, but willing to hear the explanation behind this statement. “Why is that?”

“Because it’s what they deserved,” Angelica said easily. Her gaze flickered away from him to scan her nails for imperfections, painted a deep, glossy rose pink, shining in the fluorescent kitchen lights. The tip of her index finger ran along the edge of her thumb nail, studying the small action as she continued. “A scrappy foster kid taking down the biggest assholes of the school? It’s perfect, and exactly what needed to be done. They needed a wakeup call on their bullshit. You gave them one.” Her eyes, dark and large and intent, flickered up to meet his again, startlingly fierce yet genuine. “That’s important.”

Alex smiled slightly in hesitant gratitude, still surprised but understanding what she meant. Still, he was vaguely stunned by what he figured was a compliment, not expecting that from the rude firecracker Angelica was rumored to be. “Thanks,” he said. “I… I didn’t realize.”

Angelica just smiled again, brief and witty and a little bit playful, before brushing past him to join her sisters where they were desperately trying to steer a hopelessly drunk boy in the general direction of the bathroom before he puked all over their likely extremely expensive afghan rug. 

“She liked you,” Herc said bluntly, like he couldn’t quite believe it. He looked at Alex, one hand hanging in his jeans pocket, huffing a small laugh. “She actually _liked_ you. Congratulations, dude, you‘re officially a living legend.”

“I know, I’m surprised too,” Alex agreed faintly, feeling a little weak in the knees after that whole experience. However, looking back, he figured that Laf was right about Angelica, at least in some ways. She was intrigued by him, more than anything else, and he found himself feeling the same way about her. He glanced over to watch her go. “Is she always like that?” he asked, expression mildly bemused. 

“Quite honestly, yes,” Laf answered fondly. 

They stood in a knot in a somewhat secluded corner of the kitchen, which was quieter and a little more calm than the rest of the house. The wild ones tended to stay in the living room, grinding against each other to pounding rap songs with red solo cups sloshing, or to the front hall, shouting over the music and greeting each other with sweaty hugs and loud grins, and that didn’t even touch on the basement or upstairs. In turn, the kitchen was left for the slightly more normal, quieter people, who didn’t quite belong anywhere else. Alex guessed that’s where they fit in today. 

But since the conversation with Angelica hadn’t given him the rush he was looking for, the rebellious steak still boiled, unresolved and untapped, just under Alex’s skin, and he found himself wanting to do more than stand around and be uncomfortable for the next few hours. There was music and alcohol and laughter, and he wanted to get lost in it, keep pushing back until something threatened to break. 

He knew his judgement wasn’t at its best right now. Somehow, though, he still didn’t care. He was about to turn and ask if they all wanted to find something to drink and maybe track down Peggy again when Laf spoke up first, his accented voice suddenly soft with worry. 

“John?”

The genuine concern coloring Laf’s tone was enough to shut Alex up before he even started talking. 

Abruptly, he realized that John hadn’t said a thing since they’d gotten to the party and, with all the craziness with the Schuyler sisters, Alex had barely even seen him since they’d entered the house. His expression creased in slight confusion as instant, instinctive worry began to grow within him, his gaze flickering over to John. 

And god, John looked terrible. 

“Woah, hey,” Herc said in vague alarm as he seemed to realize the same, taking John by the shoulders and ushering him away from the growing crowd beginning to leak into the kitchen, Laf and Alex following behind. They found their privacy in a somewhat secluded corner next to the extra chips, the family-sized bags sitting lined up and waiting along the tiled backsplash. 

John looked pale and shaky as he leaned back against the counter, palms flat and steadying on the edges of the quartz even as he fought to keep his expression neutral. The excited, sprightly attitude he’d started out with at the beginning of the night had evidently faded since they got to the party, his grin and enthusiasm being replaced with fidgeting hands, anxious eyes, and freckles standing out starkly against colorless skin.

However, for as bad as he looked, he was nearly aggressive in his attempts to make himself seem better than he was, taking deep breaths as his expression settled into something determinedly steady. His gaze flickered up to meet theirs. “I’m okay,” he tried, voice firm even as he rasped, but Herc interrupted almost before he finished his sentence. 

“I don’t think I agree with that,” he said flatly, brow furrowed. His arms crossed over his chest, broad shoulders blocking any curious bystanders from seeing the situation, and Alex and Laf filled in the gaps, keeping John efficiently covered. “What’s going on, John?”

John let out a harsh breath, irritated by the attention but not seeming sure of what to do to counteract it. “Nothings wrong, I just- damn,” he muttered, scrubbing his hand over the bottom half of his face. 

Alex reached for his free hand, worried and unsure of what was happening. John flinched at his touch, and then looked surprised and vaguely upset at his own instinctive actions, letting out a startled exhale as he stumbled back a step, hitting the counter behind him. “Oh, god, shit, Alex, I’m sorry-

“Don’t apologize,” Alex interrupted softly even as his alarm soared. “You know I get what’s it’s like to not want to be touched. But that’s not really a normal thing for you, John, which means that something’s wrong.” His voice was careful, gentle in its prompting. “Are you okay?”

John scoffed, running a rough hand over his hair like he did when he got overwhelmed. He still looked so shaky, not meeting their eyes with his breathing just the slightest bit irregular, but like he was still fighting to make himself seem stabler than he was, wrapping one arm tight around himself while the other planted on the countertop, setting his jaw. “I’m fine, really, everything’s _fine-“_

“John,” Laf said softly, reaching out and settling gentle, feather light fingers on the back of John’s hand. John still flinched, but Laf didn’t pull away, instead gradually lowering his hand to cover John’s entirely, light and worried. “Please, tell us what is going on.”

John hesitated for a moment, his eyes settling on the tile of the kitchen as he took another shaky breath. But then he sighed as if in resignation, gulping hard, his hand tensing beneath Laf’s. “The alcohol,” he finally admitted, his voice quiet. “It’s the smell, I think. My dad was kinda into the whole drunk and dangerous thing, I guess you could say, so I got pretty closely acquainted with the smell of beer over the years.”

Abruptly, Alex realized what was going on here, and then felt absolutely terrible for not putting two and two together sooner. 

John was _triggered._

Alex had gone through that so many times himself before that he couldn’t believe he didn’t figure it out earlier. John had experienced shitty stuff in his past, just like Alex had, and although it was farther in the past than Alex’s, it didn’t make his trauma any less significant. Alex knew that John still struggled with what his dad did, it would make sense that things would still take him back to that time in his life, such as the smell of beer (and the place _reeked_ of beer) or shouted voices booming through the house.

God, Alex had been so _selfish._

Suddenly, the fight that had been brewing, festering under his skin since that afternoon died, rapidly fading and being replaced with concern, regret, worry. He shouldn’t have done this. He had no idea why he ever thought it would be okay in the first place, and now John was struggling because of it and the Washingtons were probably going to be even more upset and _god_ why didn’t he just _tell them_ about Lee’s comments about King in the fight today-

His downward spiral of a thought process was interrupted by Laf’s hand on his shoulder, his foster brother seeming to realize what was going through his mind. Although his and Herc’s attention was still centered on John, Laf was still reassuringly present beside him and the realization of how incredibly stupid he was hit him like a brick. 

God, he was going to be grounded until he graduated. His guilt would probably last about as long. 

“Alex?” Lafayette asked quietly, just barely squeezing his shoulder. John and Herc had also stopped talking, John still looking nervous and Herc grimly worried, but they now watched him, seeming unsure of the situation entirely. 

“I’m fine,” he told them automatically, reassuring and brief, now that he had gone quiet. But then Alex just let out a fast, soft breath, steadying is eyes on John’s, resigned brown meeting skittish hazel. “Let’s go home,” he said, voice decidedly firm.

John nodded, his shoulders relaxing just slightly at the notion. “Let’s go home,” he agreed hoarsely.

“Done,” Herc said instantly, moving to wrap an arm around John’s shoulders and starting to lead the way out of the house. “Somebody text Pegs in the car, and we’ll just head out now. Nobody here will notice we’re gone for at least an hour, which should give us more than enough time to get back before anyone asks questions, and we can just get out of here.”

The four of them started moving towards the door almost instantly, everyone instantly and unanimously agreeing that they were ready to leave. Laf hovered near Hercules, still looking worried and concerned, but Alex stuck close to John, ready in a second should he need anything more than Herc’s arm around his shoulders at the moment. 

But then a familiar figure stepped into their path, voice smooth yet detached. 

“Oh, my. Surprised to see you’re showing your faces around here tonight.”

And suddenly, Alex had never wanted to personally murder Aaron Burr than at this very second. 

Standing there before them, Burr had his arms crossed delicately across his chest and expression politely disgusted. He wore clothes too nice for a party like this, and he seemed out of place in the flashing lights and booming music, looking as if he would fit better into a library or study session than a highschool party. Yet here he was anyway, screwing up their plans and delaying their escape. 

“Out of the way, Burr,” Herc returned curtly, trying to get around him with his arm still wrapped reassuringly around John’s shoulders. “We’re leaving anyway. There’s literally no reason to be a bitch to us in the meantime.”

“Hmm,” Burr hummed flatly, stepping to to keep himself in front of them, blocking their way out, “but really, I was just wanting to congratulate you. It takes bravery to show up after what happened today. Real courage, boys, I applaud you.”

Alex was about to spit something vile, just to get Burr out of the way so they could get John home, when someone else beat him to it. 

“Just let them go, Aaron. Obviously, they have better places to be.”

His gaze immediately snapped to the new, terribly familiar but jarringly unexpected voice, and something deep inside him stuttered to a stunned stop. 

Because seeing Thomas Jefferson speak up in their defense was something that Alex never thought he’d live to see, but somehow, here they were. 

He had stepped up at some point in the last minute or so, his curls mildly explosive and dark eyes somewhat unsure yet firm. Alex hadn’t even realized he was at the party, so his appearance was unexpected in more ways that one, but the intensity of his voice and the genuity tinting his words were more startling than anything else. 

“Ah, the little coward himself,” Burr said distastefully, turning slightly to look at Thomas with a pointed expression. “You ran from the fight, left us to fend for ourselves. I was meaning to have a conversation with you about that as well.”

Thomas shook his head, ignoring Burr as he instead looked at the boys. His gaze lingered on John, who still seemed pale and skittish, his hands buried in his sweatshirt pocket even as Herc kept a protective arm over his shoulders. “Is he okay?” he asked warily. 

_”Non,”_ Laf said honestly, his dark eyes flickering worriedly to John before returning to Thomas. Although part of Alex wanted to shove Jefferson away now and keep him as far away from them as possible from here on out, Laf’s gentle yet intent voice carried some confidence, and Alex waited to see where he was going with this. “He is not. That is part of the reason we are leaving.”

“Thomas, really,” Burr tried, but Thomas continued to ignore him, seeming to hesitate for a moment. Then, he turned and started walking, motioning for them to follow. “Come on,” he muttered. “I’ll help you guys get out.”

“Jefferson-“ Burr protested again, his voice rising, trying to keep Thomas from leaving. 

But Thomas just shouldered past him, skirting around actually touching him but getting past nonetheless. “Piss off, Aaron,” he snapped, brushing past him and motioning again irritably for the boys to follow him out. 

Alex exchanged a somewhat stunned look with Herc, but Laf just nodded as if something had just been confirmed to him, a small, sad smile hovering at the corners of his mouth. John, on their other hand, just looked nauseous, sticking to Herc’s side, stumbling through the kitchen as they started to follow Thomas. 

He led them through the crowd, parting the people as he went and ignoring anyone who tried to start a conversation with them as they paused. They wove around red solo cups and sloshing beer, staying close together, Alex directly behind Thomas while Herc and John followed behind him and Laf brought up the rear. Alex could understand why John wanted out, if not just because of the reeking scent of beer- the party scene very quickly became claustrophobically chaotic, and Alex realized that he’d already had enough of it. 

When they reached the front door a few moments later, Thomas opened it for them, the burst of cold air startling but refreshing. The five of them walked out onto the porch, which was mostly abandoned now that it was beginning to grow colder in the night. As soon as John hit the fresh air, his breathing seemed to ease at least slightly, even if he did stay tucked under Herc’s arm. 

The music was dulled out here, the darkness cool in the low light and the absence of tight-packed bodies around them liberating. There was a moment of quiet, Alex not sure if they should stay here or start walking, but then Thomas sighed. He hovered close to the closed door, but didn’t go back in just yet. His hair was a mere fluffy outline in the low lighting. 

“I’m sorry, about today,” he muttered. His nose was still taped up, and didn’t meet their eyes, watching the ground instead of their features. “I didn’t know Lee was planning all of that.”

“You weren’t even part of the fight, Jefferson,” Herc reminded flatly, his expression not quite a glare. “You ran before that could happen.”

“But I helped start it,” Thomas said, sounding as if he regretted it. For as overbearing and flamboyant as he typically was, he seemed so quiet and hesitant now that it was like he was a different person entirely. The toe of his shoe dragged along the surface of the Schuylers’ porch. “I shouldn’t have.” His gaze steadied on John. “Feel better, Laurens.”

John was huddled over in his sweatshirt, periodic shivers running through him. “Thanks,” he muttered, not meeting Thomas’s eyes. 

Thomas nodded once, touched his nose self-consciously, and went back inside. 

They headed in the direction of the car, four tired boys with John safe and secure in the middle of their group, and started on their way home.

***

It was only after they got in the car that the question of what, exactly, home they were referring to was raised. 

“Mount Vernon,” Laf decided almost instantly. He was curled up in the passenger’s seat, his legs tucked under him with the car heater blasting, while Herc drove and Alex and John claimed the back, almost exactly like it was on the drive to the party. The differences came in when considering John’s position half sitting, half laying with most of his weight leaning against Alex, their hands intertwined in John’s lap with the combined insulation of both Alex’s and his coats thrown over him like blankets. He still hadn’t stopped shivering. 

“Are you sure?” Alex ventured quietly, the suggestion of how mad their foster parents were before unspoken but clear in his voice. “Do you think Washington and Martha would be okay-“

“They already know we went to the party,” Laf interrupted, the words coming out in a rush. His tone was apologetic but resigned, soft in the quiet of the car, more confessing than informing. “I texted them as soon as we left, lest they wake up and find us gone from our beds. I believe they are still waiting up for us now.”

Alex’s first instinct was to be pissed off at Laf for ruining their cover before they even had a chance to pull it off, but it faded nearly as quickly as it came. Laf was good like that, literally incapable of lying to his parents, and at least they knew they were safe.

They would be furious, but they knew they were safe. At least they had that. 

“John, is that okay with you?” Herc asked, his voice low and gravelly. Even as he spoke, though, he started steering in the direction of Mount Vernon, the route familiar even in the dark of night. 

“Yeah,” John said without hesitation, curled into Alex’s side. “I’ll handle my family tomorrow. I’d rather be with you guys right now.”

“I’ll text my mom once we get there to let her know I’m staying the night,” Herc said. The conversation faded with that, leaving them to their own thoughts, the sound of the car heater blasting, and not much else. 

Alex, with his hand securely in John’s lap with John’s head resting against his shoulder, wasn’t quite sure what he should be feeling now. Mostly, it was just exhaustion flooding his limbs and clouding his mind, both physically and emotionally. The day had been a whirlwind, from the aggression of the fight to the solemness of the aftermath to the frustration of the argument to the drama of the party to the worry still plaguing him now, and Alex found that he could barely keep his thoughts straight or eyes open now. 

He dreaded facing Washington and Martha so soon after the argument, especially after everything went down as terribly as it did, but he knew that it was inevitable. And, glancing over at the boy pressed into his side, he knew that John was far more important than some petty disagreement. John came first.

He’d be fine. 

The car was near silent as they drove, dark and warm and almost stuffy by the heaters, and Alex just watched out the window and kept his hand intertwined with John’s, his thoughts eventually, finally going quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s the day after American Thanksgiving, so it’s basically Christmas now. Bring on the cookies, y’all. 
> 
> As usual, not sure when the next chapter will be done, but I’ll post it as soon as it’s finished!! 
> 
> So, today’s question: are you a tea or coffee person? I like both, but tea’s usually my preference. Leaf juice is the bomb.
> 
> Again, thank you for coming back this story, and for sticking with me through the long waits and still being as amazing as you are. Happy slightly late Thanksgiving (and happy Black Friday!) for all my fellow Americans, and I’m so superfluously thankful for you guys. Y’all are absolutely incredible. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and please never forget that you’re loved by so, so many people, even if you don’t totally realize it right about now. I love you, for one, but trust me, that’s only just the beginning. Have a wonderful day. <3


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